


Then There Were Three

by rngrdead



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2044335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rngrdead/pseuds/rngrdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Wolfram and Hart may have won the day, but the battle is just about to begin... and it's Xander to the rescue. This time it is not only Spike who needs help but Willow also, and the situation is as unexpected as it is dire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then There Were Three

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Canon is Post S7 BtVS and S5 AtS.
> 
> Warning: Harsh circumstances and difficult start....
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own the characters - they belong to Joss W and the crew at Mutant Enemy - nor do I make any money from my fiction.

Part 1

Her body was no longer her own.

Suspended in comfortable buoyant gel, constantly fed a cocktail of nutrients and drugs via catheter, with oxygen supplemented as needed and waste removed automatically, she was aware enough at times to see that her body was growing – rapidly. With no weight bearing and her ‘growth tank’ closed, she was aware enough to know that there was ‘piped music’ constantly, meant to stimulate both mother and babies. She would sometimes open her eyes and look sadly through her the glass wall at the other incumbents of the ‘propagation room’. There were at least twenty others, all breeding age, each in their own cubicle, Kennedy included.

It was the morning – she was only aware of time of day because it was the second check, and the roof was open. Sunlight was apparently necessary for health… though in her current state of inanimate suspension and auto-feeding, she struggled with that as a concept. Still, it was nice to see the blue and feel a little warmth on her face. The rest of her was kept at exactly perfect body temperature. Fluctuations just as they would have been were she animate apparently.

The white witch’s stomach was now bulging and she felt the movement of the two part human children inside her once again, as she did almost constantly of late. She felt strangely connected, given that they were yet another pair she had produced that were not ‘of her’, but in a strange way they were. Her body fed them, nurtured them and… it was all she had these days. 

She slowly pushed her right arm through the impossibly thick red gel that suspended, sustained and restricted her, until her hand rested on the tight drum that was her belly. It was an enormous effort and took almost twenty minutes to achieve, so once in place she felt the changing shapes pressing against the lining of her skin and let her mind drift again. 

It was her third pregnancy, and she was only twenty four. After her last delivery, they had delayed her ‘happy drugs’ a little too long and she had heard one of the ‘research’ doctors cheerily telling a colleague that the human 'volunteer subjects, and permanent employees' in their care were expected to continue to produce until in their fifties given their “marvellous new facility and the new drug combo.” 

They were the ultimate Wolfram and Hart experiment. 

Willow and Kennedy had, like the other surrogates, simply answered an employment advertisement pointed to by someone on her regular chat. It was for a “new exciting area of growth in the Wolfram and Hart research sector” and would entail “ground breaking work with a variety of clients at our state of the art research facility just outside Notre Dame University”. Successful applicants would be required to do a medical, as well as provide evidence of their academic record, any prior experience and… their knowledge of the magical arts. If successful, the employment package included medical and dental cover, and the provision of free accommodation on site. 

It seemed ideal for Willow and Kennedy who had drifted back to the USA after a stint in Brazil and were rather at a loose end. Plus they both needed the money! Even when working at the Council or the coven, they had both needed to supplement their income – this seemed the perfect match.

Willow applied on line for them both, and despite Kennedy’s worry that her credentials might not cut it, two days later an Email arrived to say they were both invited to a “preliminary round of interviews and tour of the facility” and given an option of three dates in the coming fortnight to choose from. It would be a big step but even if only one of them was successful, it seemed like an opportunity to make some money and settle somewhere for a time. 

The young woman in HR at Wolfram and Hart was wonderfully helpful over the phone, even recommending a hotel and arranging a private car to pick them up on the day of their interview. 

Invited into a small waiting room with two other women, they had been asked to fill out a set of forms as they waited for their appointment. Willow felt the prickle as they walked into the cosy space and knew it was warded but was not worried – the fact that the company was employing individuals with magical abilities made that almost a given.

They had barely sat down and begun to fill out the first line of their personal details when Kennedy complained of feeling a little ‘off colour’. Seconds later Willow had just enough time to look over at her girlfriend and register the pins and needles in her own limbs before her own world went black.

Now, in her ‘abode’, the liquid around her was designed to siphon off her magical energy, and however long her pregnancies lasted, she was aware that two specialized breast pumps were permanently attached, harvesting her milk. The soft rubber suction devices pulsed for a few minutes every three or so hours just after something in her drug cocktail shifted, she consequently had some lucid moments and time to think, before registering feeling painfully ‘full’ and responding to the 'stimulus'. 

Just as reliably as Pavlov's dog salivated, the sound of a human newborn from the small speaker in her tank was enough to make her milk drop, then the suction would begin. In an odd sort of a way it felt… nice… relief certainly… but just feeling something for those few minutes was… nice.

The children within her grew at an incredible rate emphasizing their non human status.

She had delivered her first set of twins into the hands of a researcher in the small birthing pool without really feeling the event at all. The birth was pre-planned and induced, and other than the first stab of pain, was masked by a decent dose of pethidine, followed by her limp pregnant body being unhooked from all its paraphernalia, removed from her tank and an epidural applied. 

In the delivery room they didn’t bother covering her at all as she was lowered into a water bath. She watched in hazy amazement as the tiny green forms with huge eyes and an obvious tails emerged from her after three or so hours of her uterus apparently contracting without her participation. The newborns were handed to two thrilled new demon parents who were standing outside her watery birthing bed in quiet anticipation. 

She was lucid enough to hear the doctor say that all was well and trying to get her tongue around asking if she could hold them just once… before the prick of a needle sent her world into oblivion again.

Sometime later she was roused a little found herself in a different laboratory, on a different table, legs strung up and someone with a mask pushing a cold metal object into her still sore… oh then relief… black once more… 

She woke in her fluid prison, her drugs kicking in again and milking back on schedule… and within days felt her body responding, the process was being repeated, it was true, she was pregnant for the second time, the only question was really, with who… or what?

Ground breaking work indeed – and certainly involving supplied accommodation, but as her body gave up her milk yet again after the auto response to a baby’s cry, she shed a silent tear. If it went to Wolfram and Hart’s research plan, she was to be a magical human breeding vessel – for the next twenty five plus years!

The third time around, she now wished they planted a full-blooded dragon egg within her, at least then it might tear her apart as it hatched just as it had Kennedy a month ago. There was no noise but her tank had suddenly turned bright red, and a young reptile could be seen clawing the glass before the staff came running. Her friend, her former lover, was now… free… of pain and everything else. Two days later the tank was replaced, and another sedated brunette was floating in her place.

She knew she was only days away from delivering again, but also knew that her next pregnancy was to be fully human, magically inclined – of that there would be no doubt – but she had heard her minders and thanked the goddess for small mercies. 

At least it would be a slower gestation… and perhaps she might feel connected somehow. 

The latest pregnancy (her third) had been hard as the mixture of nutrients had included the mother demon’s blood, throwing Willow into a state of shock every few days and requiring a custom designed form of electro-therapy. As a consequence she seemed almost euphoric for a few hours after regaining consciousness, but also seemed to have lost large chunks of memory and continued to have various muscles twitch for no apparent reason. 

On the upside the young demons inside her grew at an ever accelerated rate and became almost constantly active. Her feeding was tripled, their birthing date pushed forward by a month and the research team recommended a shift in the choice of species for any consequent pregnancies.

So now, as she lay on the ever more familiar laboratory table, her legs pulled up in stirrups and her stomach sagging flat for the moment, she reflected on how far she was from her former life. 

Formerly the most powerful witch on the planet, she was now utterly drained of magical energy on a daily basis but for the small amount that was apparently directed for her babies to subsume. Her partner(s) were both dead and her body was not in her control. 

As the researcher pressed the broad catheter through her cervix and she felt the usual ‘nothing’ as the embryo’s were implanted, she was actually thankful of be being helplessly impregnated with three *human* embryos for the first time. 

She was patted on the arm and told that for first time since being at Wolfram and Hart, they were in fact her own eggs, though fertilised by some unknown male, and due to be ‘farmed out’ to three happy Wolfram and Hart ‘power couples’. She took some solace in the idea that at least they would be looked after… private nannies, exclusive schools, new cars at sixteen, and magical training along with an ivy league education… In her lucid hours over the coming days, she dwelt on what might be the three (apparently girls’) lives and with no chance of her own escape, she at least thanked the goddess for that scenario.

Strangely, as she vaguely felt her legs lowered after a physical examination to confirm the successful two month mark of the babies’ development, she looked forward to being back in her own personal oblivion – drugs, feeding, breast pumps, her tank, and in a month or two she would have the feeling of a relative close by… strictly speaking… inside.  
……………….

Spike was incapable of seeking anyone out after the Black Thorn – and had *definitely* stayed off the Wolfram and Hart radar – well everyone’s really. 

It wasn’t hard, the end was almost a private affair

Faced with ridiculous odds, he saw Charles fall, watched in horror then felt his Grandsire dust and felt the sword of an assailant penetrate his torso just before Illyria took vengeance to its extreme – as only a diminished Old One might. Her form compromised by a dragon talon allowed her true essence to release, the blast annihilating all in the vicinity, but strangely, saving Spike.

He felt her, rather than heard the message as the sword was triumphantly pulled from his chest mere seconds before his assailant immolated. The pain was almost absolution for his sins, but he also heard a whispered “Take mine.” He was still not sure what that had meant as blackness claimed him.

It might have been hours, days or weeks later that he woke underground somewhere but it was certainly *not* in LA.

Clem’s chirpy, “There you are! Geez!!! *That’s* a relief. After the Magical Memo from some ‘entity’ just thought I’d be demon goo under someone’s… ahhh never mind… How ya feelin’?... Well kind of know you’re not… Yet that is… well you will be of course… or not… ummm” 

The second sound Spike registered was that of a tiny kitten, and was still trying to get his head around things, but couldn’t seem to work out how to sit up, no matter his intentions. In his head he had limbs – but what happened to the real ones! And why was there a tube down his throat?!

He couldn’t taste blood exactly, but someone had been feeding him… he wasn’t hungry? Perhaps he’d been injured? He wasn’t a ghost… he knew that feeling… Perhaps he’d just been on a bit of a ‘bender’? Or there might have been some sort of weird time shift… to when or where? And if so, why were the walls pink? And why did a bloke he recognized now as Clem keep patting his face!!!!? 

The tube was abruptly pulled out and he groaned and tried once more to turn but the rasped groan was the extent of his protest. Clem seemed undeterred.

“C’mon buddy… Someone’s come to visit… You’ve been out for a week! Well more really, but let’s not dwell on that…

“Now I *know for a fact* you’ll brighten up for this… Slayer’s friend… you know… one eye?... C’mon?! Got the word from the magical community to sort of take him under my wing… well folds really ::snorts:: Anyway new Watcher’s council ‘Deputy assistant of recognisance”… some big wig. Thought I recognized him but he kind of just looked at me funny so perhaps not… anyway fellow’s name’s Andrew?? Ring any bells?? He apparently had been keeping tabs on all those new slayers… you know since your lot… phew, anyway… 

“I’m ‘off their dial’ since I signed that thing, and of course… seemings that I was friends… well… with the Slayer … anyway… OW!!!” The tiny tabby had obviously penetrated skin deeply enough to really smart.

Holding the little ginger fur ball far enough away from his being to remove the pain, Clem continued… “*Anyway* Xander is here because you need a person who is… Oww!!! Oww!!! Right that’s it – You are officially banned to the basket!” 

There was a bit of a scuffle somewhere behind him before Clem patted Spike’s face again. “C’mon… brighten up… company!”

And who could really argue with the rather bizarre image of an upside down goofy red eyed grin. At least not until he saw the significantly slimmer visage of a one eye sometime Scoobie looming over him who’s single greeting word was, “F$#%!!!” followed by the even more expressive “F$#%!!! Spike! But I th… He said and then Andrew… but F$#%!!!”

Spike was sure he would be dusted, and the boy fingering something in his pockets was warning enough, but the vampire’s (if he still counted as one) power to move was zero at the current time.

Instead he opted for a quick prayer to anyone who might listen, “Make it quick Harris.”

He closed his eyes, but instead of oblivion, found himself enveloped in a genuinely loving hug.

His broken body had no way of reciprocating, but realized one incredible fact, he could feel the warmth… it seemed to flow directly into him… he could feel that when nothing had ‘felt’ since the Black Thorn face off. 

Clem was all but bouncing with glee. “Knew that Green demon had the minerals! Now apparently all you have to do is find that Willow… and she’ll have you right as rain in no time apparently! And here’s the great news… she’s workin’ for that Wolfram and Hart mob up north! Demon friendly that lot… You might need to ring ahead but they’re real helpful if ever a demon’s in a scrape… not that I’ve ever needed them but Cousin Marty, when that *thing* happened…” 

Clem stopped short, looked embarrassed and grinned apologetically, “Yup… TMI… anyways… I reckon if that friend is working at the demon research facility – the one in all the ‘New News’ mags… that is just awesome! They’ve got a whole program going for helping magical couples who can’t have kids sort that out!” 

Clem stopped again, realized that Spike was crying silently (again) and Xander looked somewhat puzzled – both by the babble and the severely broken vampire’s response, then said very quietly… “F#$%... do they have a sperm bank as part of that thing?”

Clem nodded enthusiastically.

“And they advertised for… Hellmouth residents at some point?”

Clem nodded again then offered, “Yup and paid me almost a month’s rent for my contribution… Not that I’m boasting of course…” He trailed off and grinned shyly at the rather, now pale looking man.

Xander simply whispered, “It paid my ticket to England… Oh Ghod!!! I might have… That’s kind of… but what if?? We have to talk to her… find out…” He looked down belatedly at his upset companion. “Oh Spike… and I’m sure she will fix you!”

Clem grinned widely “There you go… we’re all winners!” He fished the little black kitten from under the couch, plonked it in the sealed basket gently in with the rather aggressive mate then pushed Xander gently aside.

Spike tried to swallow desperately as a feeding tube was pushed past his gag reflex and Clem tipped an entire litre of slightly warmed, out of date, AB positive blood into a large funnel and held it for a minute or three as it drained into the vampire’s stomach.

“Be nice if that witch can get him back on his feet… Really does my back in holding that funnel some days… Just lucky I’m not paying… Angelus left him the lot apparently, though I’ve just been hocking some of his rings ‘n things…Don’t mind helping out a friend. Figure he’d do the same for me one day.”

This time Xander didn’t miss the desperate tears tracking down the impossibly defined jaw and into the thick dark blonde curls as the tube was summarily removed.

Xander was still reeling from the helplessness of a former Big Bad… or hero, whatever… when Clem dumped the apparatus, slapped a loose skinned arm around his shoulder, and simply said, “Don’t worry too much about the tears. Demon mate of mine reckons they’re part of the healing process… Now let’s get to finding that witch friend of yours… Phone is over here.”

 

Chapter 2

 

She was carrying three children for ‘economic reasons’ apparently… human gestation taking so long and all. So it was three not two for a reason, “wow what a relief”… or not. 

Lucid for her thirty fourth week check-up, she heard that much at least, largely because they had to give her more time to ‘come to’ before placing her in the specially designed sling for transportation up to the lab. She spent much of the trip trying to hold her own head erect enough to breathe, these days that took conscious effort.

In her first few months – well the whole of that first pregnancy really, she actually enjoyed the feel of the floor under her as they adjusted her drugs and she came to standing in a shower while a carer systematically cleaned off her ‘sustenance liquid’ before her regular trip to the experimental laboratory, but in her last trimester of a fourth pregnancy, and without any weight bearing for close to three years, she no longer had the physical strength to support her own weight. It was a fairly average human response, and was a fascinating, lucrative, ‘side study’ for the Wolfram and Hart science team working on their space station initiative. 

The research team had made the mistake of ‘standing’ her neighbour some time late last year and she had watched in horror as the woman instantly collapsed, spraining both ankles, and breaking her wrist and hip as she fell. And sadly, due to trying to grab for help post fall, she rose enough on her arms to fall again, connecting with the base of a drugs cart being pushed in by a frantic orderly. With eighteen months of atrophy, she was doomed and her neck snapped upon impact. She didn’t die quite then, but Willow thought later, like Kennedy, the girl was one of the lucky ones. The human female was deemed ‘unviable’ as a subject and quickly terminated on the floor where she fell as soon as the chief researcher arrived. The ‘to be’ demon parents of her in vitro child went back on the waiting list with, of course, generous compensation.

Willow was still cognisant for her fortnightly trips to the lab, unable to speak of course, but able to listen, and, sadly, also able to see her own form. 

She now reclined in a movable sling/hoist, was hosed down as usual in through the mesh, then had her legs strung up fully, ready for the ‘team’ to inspect her. But this trip she was in a different lab, and the glance into the mirrors of the teaching room caused distress, despite her ‘happy’ drugs. She had no idea!

Her hair was shaved to ‘a number two’ military length. Her face was thinner than she remembered but oh… her belly? Her belly was enormous (!) and her nipples (courtesy of daily milking no doubt) were ringed by large dark rings and seemed ridiculously distended. Her breasts were obviously bulging with milk and pendulous due to her position. And she looked absolutely debauched in the ridiculous sling. What made her cry all the harder was that whatever cocktail of chemicals and hormones they were feeding her made her nether regions loose and she now throbbed unnaturally, But worse than all that, as she looked down at the distended caricature of a pregnant human body, the young orderly began adjusting the manacles holding her ankles and wrists to the smallest fitting. 

She could see clearly. Muscles were now utterly atrophied, and her skin was loose over sinew, bone, but veins stood high and proud with a cardiopulmonary network currently carrying enough blood for four. 

It was a study of the macabre, and would apparently be her lot for the next… double her life until now… Was it any wonder she chose to ‘zone out’ more often than in these days.

Upon her return there were no more attempts to move in the liquid. And she wished away the new head/breathing apparatus… if only they just let her! But there had been a nasty incident two weeks previously when her face inadvertently ‘fell’ into her sustainance liquid due to a slight overdose of her relaxant drugs. Had it not been for the quick action of one of the staff who was monitoring her vital signs she would surely have been on their ‘out’ list. 

Now a custom made chin piece and clear plastic jaw separator was pushed into place to ensure that her tongue would not fall back, or her head forward whenever she was in the tank. There was no shifting even her head now, so she simply kept her eyes closed whenever the three hour sentience came around.

It was one more step toward… Willow knew it was only a matter of time… She was slipping and in a way welcomed it. The scientists were kind but only as they might be to a plant or laboratory rat. And even the latter was probably treated less dismissively. So she let herself drift again. 

Beethoven’s eighth was playing into her space, her babies moved a little then settled. 

Lately it had been mostly classical music… that was nice… The baby cry rang out of the speaker mid adagio, her milk dropped on cue and she felt the blessed suction take away the fullness from her breasts. Unfortunately one of her three babies wriggled until its foot seemed to press directly on her bladder though the catheter extracted what liquid was excreted as a consequence, and she blessed whatever deity caused her three to shuffle internally again shortly after and a tiny foot shifted from the pressure spot. 

She would have returned to drifting but that she was sure she must have been hallucinating. Behind the chief researcher, was a tall brunette with an eye patch.

Her cocktail was beginning to kick in again post milking but… she knew… she struggled, but she knew the face! And when a broad hand touched the glass of her tank then turned away to speak to the researcher, she wished he hadn’t seen, wished the chin piece would break, and wished she could simply… die.

………….

Last correspondence Wolfram and Hart. Xander was thankful that his ‘geekdom’ now extended to computers and (with a little help from the other ‘geekies’ in the Council) serious hacking. 

They didn’t touch the law firm, but were able to track down the last correspondences of his friend.

Initially Xander was a little puzzled at the Willow/W&H connection, but knew enough of the Wolfram and Hart ‘story’ to know they were bad news. 

He also began to worry anew at Willow and Kennedy’s apparent lack of contact with the Council after their return to the States. The two had deliberately distanced themselves for a time… All the Hellmouth crew had… but even when they were on the road, Willow had made a point of ‘checking in’ to someone occasionally. Now, going through records, it had been nearly three years since anyone could remember a message other than an auto ‘out of the office’ response!

He had been out of any loop until last year… rural Ghana was hardly the place to do internet!

But now, if she *was* an employee, he was also puzzled by the whole idea of Willow’s choice to become part of an experimental team regards demon research… *surely* the Initiative experience was enough to put any of their old crew off that idea!

It was an innocent statement from Clem that made the phonecall the one they needed “Maybe that biological clock thing that humans seem to have is ticking… You know… two girls… well in our species it doesn’t really…” Clem trailed off… looked at his basket and sprung into action, “Geez look at the time! But just a thought… Spike always loved kids… Why don’t you ask if she can make you one or two! Hahh!” He saw Xander’s sudden look of horror then back tracked a little… “It was just a…”

Xander smiled at his temporary host, the demon who had saved a friend, and smiled, “Yeah… kinda nice but most of ‘em (if they’re human) would be home ‘til they’re forty if the stats are right!”

Clem grinned broadly, winked then saluted the new Watcher with the kitten basket as he let himself out, “So?? Everyone has one or two family demons! You guys sort it out – but make the phonecall OK… Much as I like Spike… him here? Kind of starting to cramp my style.”

All Spike could do was roll his eyes, but he managed to meet Xander’s one then blinked and swallowed painfully. The feeding tube always seemed to tear… something.

Xander didn’t even *want* to think about Clem’s last statement given that he seemed to remember shagpile carpet, large print curtains and beanbags going out in the seventies. But Xander also knew his mission. He *had* to find Willow if the vampire before him, champion many times over… was to be restored to… well he wasn’t sure… Willow was the key. So…

Two days later and with Aurelian money, a Council ‘get out of free’ card and his demon magnet signature firmly in place, he made a special purchase. Even with the W&H connections the deal was almost untraceable… if only that it was uninteresting. She was on the ‘way out’ He also Hellmouth, he rich, Watcher, wants kids, and now living with a… Pledath demon?! Even the senior partners could not deny that he might be a useful connection in the future – even if the rather ‘spent’ surrogate passed on. 

And the Coven did its job. The prophesy regards Spike remained hidden, for now in the Deeper Well, it’s new protector… Rupert Giles.

Half a million dollars was apparently a reasonable going price for three human children and the rather waning form of a surrogate. In truth, the research team were rather thrilled that the mystery purchaser was so keen on the witch. Their ‘prospective parents’ had started to lean toward other species and of late the subject had been so unresponsive they had worried, changed her music several times and varied her drugs, but ending up back at the ‘default’, just hopeful that she would not ‘break’ completely. The mothers that broke really were only good for milking they had found… for some reason the children produced of ‘permanently baffled’ humans proved… limited.

The day he unexpectedly located… and bought… his friend, or the shell of her, Xander had also been forced to purchase invalid ‘help’ equipment, hire a mini van to transport her, and was advised to engage a nurse ‘to ensure the safe delivery of your goods’.

It had been an amazing seventy two hours, and Xander had his head in his hands as Clem came in whistling with a full basket of twelve pretty felines. He smiled and patted his friend, regaled him with stories of the five poker rounds that had produced such riches, then stopped for long enough. 

There were two people in the bed, one dead and one a very pregnant human, and Xander had resigned from the Council.

Both Spike and Willow felt the other. He registered her renewed magical signature, her extreme emaciation, her warmth and the wriggling forms within her belly contacted his side. And strangely wished he could say something, but gave in to the genuine pleasure of an overtired Xander lifting him into a warm bath, and holding him reassuring all the time that ‘Willow will fix you… You’ll be much better soon.”

He had his doubts, but gave in to the lovely sensation of being washed, dried, fed via tube (OK that bit not so good) then settled next to a body that pulsed with such life that his demon strained to rise.

 

PART 3

Willow felt the joy of lying prone on those first few nights; the joy of finally remembering things from her past; and feeling the surge of unfettered magical energy restore itself through her whole being.

Two weeks later she was propped up a little by Clem, and looked down sadly as her breasts were relieved of their burden for the third time that day (Xander had been given the brief of how to… along with a reputable dealer in human milk should he want to 'exploit' the additional benefits of the surrogate).

“Come on sweetie! Please don’t cry again! Do this for the kittens all the time… now just suck on the nipple… that’s it… You’re friend Xan is out tonight but Spike’s always up for a cuddle… You don’t mind if I…”

Clem lifted her with an audible grunt then pushed her against an inanimate fellow magical creature’s side, easing her top leg onto his instead of using a pillow for her comfort. These were things she had not experienced in her ‘chamber’… and strangely felt the energy and power flowing both ways.

Xander consulted with various doctors, conventional and… well just straight wacky! And the result had been a distressed Willow sedated for the first few days away from her tank then doses were reduced and things ‘evening out’. But on her twenty first day in her new circumstance, her huge belly tightened impossibly, pain ripped through her and her body arched of its own accord. 

She instantly felt a rush of wetness between her thighs but knew she had not soiled herself in the conventional manner. Xander and Clem had been expecting it to happen any day, but with Xander out for a few hours, Clem rang his cousins Nell and Martin the 'Demon Birthing Brothers" according to their card.

Though she had delivered before, it had always been fast and furious with no feeling thanks to the very clinical proces and timing dictated by others. She had always been in water before and the progeny had always been... non-human. 

Now she was fully aware, out of control, but in a body that seemed to know what to do. Due to multiple pregnancies, the delivery would again be swift but this time desperately painful as no drugs were applied, cervix dilated and muscles contracted impossibly in preparation.

Finally, at the edge of panic, apparently fully dialated and with three rather floppy eared demons fussing around her, she panted without prompt. She had been placed on a rug on the kitchen table with legs spread and supported by two pillows, as though for another impregnation. The two male nurses ready to deal with the babies and Clem occasionally (and very nervously) swiping her forehead with a damp towel. Just as she heard the instruction to “Bear down now… Come on sweetie... *Push*!” she also felt a strong hand twine fingers with hers and opened wide frightened eyes to the face of an old friend. 

"I'm here Wills... I'm here... Now do as they say..."

She would have panicked but for the calm presence of her rescuer and lifelong friend, though despite her thankfulness, she unintentionally broke one of his fingers in the third last contraction and push as he stedfastly held her hand. 

The DNA tests came through by the evening, and Xander rejoiced and grieved as he told first Clem then Spike then Willow. 

All three girls were his, theirs… his and Willow’s, and would have been given away but for his finding her.

His children, his biological progeny… three little girls… wonderful miracles of an horrendous set of events, had been born naturally. Each one, in the end, ‘caught’ by their natural father, each contraction this time felt by their mother and the ‘push’ instruction understood and followed. 

And as her last little darling emerged from her, another small part of Willow broke. Were she not here, were she safe in her tank, these, her *real* children... her own(!) would have been sold off to the highest bidder. She had somehow convinced herself that human babies falling into the hands of purchasing parents, would somehow... but to find out? And she too had been sold! She wept as the placenta was delivered then again as she was carried to a warm bath, gently cleaned, dried and delivered to a real bed and given half a unit of blood… but no sedative... there was no need. 

She woke on and off that night, sleeping in the ‘third bedroom’ – it was really Clem’s study, but there was no real problem. The bed was comfortable, the fish tank pump hummed a bit, but there was a sound system that was set on low and played a long loop of classical pieces so she might feel ‘at home’. When the babies stirred, she knew she would need help… but for now… it was enough that she lay on her front, horizontal for the first time in three plus years, and next to her, three tiny girls who were wrapped in identical pink baby blankets in the crib by her bed.

Xander checked on her twice, then made his way back to the room he called his own. He had moved Spike to his bed (from the study bed), sensitive to Willow’s state, and consequently lay on his back trying not to touch said vampire, for fear of ‘violating him’… But in the end he rolled over and cried onto Spike’s chest for no better reason than he needed a male chest to cry on... it was his preference… Spike was a friend… Xander a Father(!) … and Clem was… well a little too squishy to cry onto, and well… And *why* was he having this conversation with himself !!!! Probably because Clem was out at kitten poker *again*; he had just become a father to his lifelong, very ill friend Willow; he still had no idea how to fix Spike; and he and his family should move out to their own space sometime… Oh and he needed to sort out finish off that W&H mob and their baby factory; then there was the situation of funding and he needed Spike to move then sign some documents then all would be well… or not. 

He really just needed a good cry.

The next day brought a number of small miracles. Willow felt her own children feed from her for the first time – each one benefiting from a burgeoning bosom, even though the nurse had to ‘latch the little loves on’. Thrilling for Willow, there was no prompt for her milk dropping this time, tiny mouths and a quiet snuffle seemed all it needed for her body to respond.

Wonderfully, on that momentous day, she was also able to lift an emaciated arm to carefully stroke a too thin hand over the little one born with a head of dark hair. 

The effort cost her, but her dear rescuer, Xander, saw and smiled. She could smell her babies for the first time and felt the pad between her legs being changed every few hours, just as she watched her babies changed, though hers bore a serious amounts of blood as well as urine on the wadding. 

She worried about things but drifted in and out and was still somewhat confused that she was not back in her tank. Confused rather nervous. 

On one level she knew she had been ‘rescued’, but really still struggled with the irrational concern that she might be sent back. In her waking moments, as yet another little mouth fussed and finally suckled, she wondered if it was the drugs, the magical energy, the tank, or the electic shock therapy of the pregnancy before last that had damaged her thinking. 

Visions of her previous three years began to flood in, but then thankfully a snuffle and meaningful stepping sounds announced yet another tiny one ready for feeding, and this time the kind nurse carefully rolled Willow onto her side so a little mouth could find the nipple with ease, and her arm could be positioned as though she had meant to hold her child.

Willow let a tear fall as her kind Nurse Sarah continued to monitor the feeding, replaced the little girl with yet another hungry mouth, then wrapped all still unnamed new ones and settled both mother and children for the night.

……………..

Three weeks later saw both Willow and Spike’s limbs being worked on in a series of exercises four times a day. Following that they massaged, fed, and cleaned. It was exhausting but with an apparently endless supply of Clem’s relatives and friends willing to take cash (or kittens) for their time, the busy house seemed to take on a rather festive feel. Clem was delighted at all the attention (and none too few accolades) as he made yet another pot of tea and took newly folded towels into the temporary ‘therapy room’ (formerly the lounge).

Willow’s muscles were definitely improving, even the broad split down her abdomen seemed to be reducing, though she still struggled to ‘crunch’ anything beyond a slight deliberate tightening. Her breakthrough was rolling over unaided. It would be months if not perhaps years before she would walk unaided again, but at least now she was able to shift on the soft surface of her bed and take her own time to face her little ones in comfort. Only a week later she managed to sit up (albeit padded by pillows) for the feeding and even kept her knees bent for a time, though she did watch sadly as muscles began to shake and then said limbs fell wide and needed to be ‘rearranged’ by Clem’s dear sister (her current helper). 

Yet as she improved, she knew the figure she was so often lying beside, her rescuer’s ‘other friend’, was still without movement.

It should have been ridiculous but the following day as a specially commissioned remedial therapist (for magical beings) entered their home, Clem and Xander almost had a fit! The strange individual had sniffed the air, inspected Spike and Willow then given his verdict. He was ‘the best’ according to all the demons, but the recommendation of feeding the vampire *her milk* mixed with Xander, the (ex)Watcher/Scoobie's blood seemed just outrageous!

But in truth Xander knew. Spike was still not dust, but did not respond to anything. 

He was healing so slowly physically that it would be years, if ever, that his limbs might be back in his command. The formerly lightening fast movements and grace forever taken unless they found a solution. There was no rhyme or reason to it. With the human blood regularly infused by force-feeding it should have been a swift process, but there was something more to his survival after the Illyria incident than a simple broken body. It was magical, so perhaps their odd advisor had something... He needed a magical boost to provide the solution.

Finally, taking the plunge and trusting the odd medico (with the strange talon like feet and odd gait) Xander heated one of the frozen bottles of his oldest friend’s breast milk sliced the palm of his hand and dripped it into the baby bottle, before adding a nipple as he would for his girls… just for good measure.

Even an amazed Clem saw it, busy with towels again, spied it from the door.

There was no force feeding needed as the rich smell of body temperature milk and ‘honey’ (Xander’s blood) wafted through the sick room and for the first time since waking in Clem's home Spike was instantly in game face and awake. Xander would have sworn he saw Spike’s left hand shift a little as he accepted the ambrosial liquid for the first time, sucking hungrily until the bottle was empty without so much as puncturing the nipple, then, for the first time since at Clem’s, voluntarily finished a full bottle of blood, sucking from the same teat as the milk.

That night Spike's hand really did shift and Xander had the joy of feeling a slight squeeze as he fed his friend the potent remedy once more.

The following day, as Xander cradled ‘B’ (he really should name them properly!), he quietly told Willow that she was now feeding four, explained the reason and begged her to understand and forgive him for not asking her first. The courtesy had an unexpected effect however, as the slowly recovering wiccan began to cry. 

Xander was about to leave but the young cousin of Clem’s who was currently helping out put a floppy hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Wait.”

Willow gradually calmed and tried to put her feelings into words. For so many months… *years* she had been milked for others, newborns or just demon pleasure, but now she was able to provide for her family… and a special friend. She knew whose mouth her milk entered, and just that thought alone had her leaking and ready to feed someone again. Eventually she simply whispered, “Good”, squeezed his hand weakly then smiled a little before whispering “Good” a second time and gave in to sleep.

Maisie Lynne, Lucy Charlotte and Sadie Elaine… Rosenberg Harris were named on the night of the full moon, aged three months.

Spike still needed to be strapped tight against the back of his wheelchair for the ‘outdoor event’, though was improved enough to hold his head up and control the joystick with his preferred left hand. Willow too was wheelchair bound, but now had enough strength in her arms to hold each of her daughters as the visiting wiccan blessed them for their naming.

Willow’s milk supply had not slowed, indeed like most mammalian mothers, had responded to the increased demand, and with four month old triplets and a vampire to feed, her own recovery was obviously suffering. Clem noticed it first. 

Part of her therapy had been to try to read again, but she attempted daily to hold a book up as she reclined in bed, if only to please her therapist. She was more successful at milking herself, rather than using the pump, indeed it was a blessed relief. She was in control. 

She had done well on both scores for almost a month, her hands and arms working with increasing strength, but then there seemed to be a setback, and her limited speech had her struggling to explain. 

Clem found her with a collapsed, book covering her face and tears flowing as she tried to tell him that her throat was so sore, she so weak and *oh those memories*. She had a blocked nose, head ache and dreadful levels of… she waved a weak hand in the direction of her nether regions. Clem swiftly called his lovely sister who arrived within the hour, dressed the new mother's nether regions and remained, stroking the human gently. Regardless of pay, she had come to like the damaged human.

It was determined to be a virus of some description, but a couple of weeks later as she succumbed a second time, a local almost human doctor was called in. Antibiotics were prescribed along with a series of vitamin and minerals, and a feeding regime for her *very* healthy baby girls that included the first introduction of solids. 

Xander was in attendance for the examination, Clem opting for an overdue ‘afternoon at the cousin's', so the young(ish) father of three struggled to take all the instructions in.

The doctor also inspected Spike, approved the regime of feeding and therapy, and promised to return in a month… but also re emphasised that Willow be ‘watered and fed at least five times a day!’

That night Spike asked the nurse to be directed to the ‘baby room’ then leave him in his chair beside the wiccan’s bed. It took almost fifteen minutes, but he managed to reach up, and slowly lever a plastic cup half full of water until it came off her side table and fell into his lap the right way up.

The water that spilt over his skimpily covered limbs as a consequence was cold but of no issue. More important was the positioning of the cup between his legs before he opened the vein. 

His legs still had little to no feeling, but the cup had luckily found a secure resting place and he managed to sink the fangs into the vein in his wrist, dropping the limp limb across the wide opening and letting the rich fluid of a sick but still Master vampire find the vessel to drip into.

Xander found him there, wrist still dripping slowly into a near full cup. He was thankful to spy the cup and suspected the reason but still rushed forward to support the weakened vampire’s head that had lolled to the side.

“Oh G$#%! Spike! What are you??? Give me that!!!! Why??” 

The cup was carefully taken and placed on a side table, before Xander’s warm mouth latched onto the wounded wrist, licking carefully and hoped for some healing as his own left wrist was offered up to the vampire. Instinctive response saw a scar of many cuttings was reopened by familiar fangs and corpuscles exchanged in unison… at last.

But this time was different. 

Xander felt the magical jolt as something very small but still significant seemed to shift inside him. He pulled on Spike’s blood anew and felt the reciprocal act, now being done in exact unison. The rhythm had an effect and he felt a rather neglected nether region respond enthusiastically. He moaned a little but did not attend his ‘interest’. Instead he released the now healing wrist, took back his own that was in the same state, and lifted the thin, pale, beautiful male figure from the chair and carried him back to their shared bed. But this time it was different.

He avoided aught but a chaste touch, but still felt compelled. He lay atop the slim form, massaged his obvious erection against his friend’s and whispered, “Please Spike! *Feel* it! Please feel it! You must… just…”

And Spike did – just enough. With his, at least for now, lover’s blood in he veins, willingly given, his body needed no more prompting and regardless of feeling or none, his lower parts spurted their seed between the two forms in a matter of moments. 

Eventually a rather embarrassed Xander lifted off, apologised profusely, then cleaned them both as much as he could with facial tissues. 

However as his friend smiled weakly he kissed the near snoozing vampire gently on the forehead, tucked the covers around the male form, and stood rather awkwardly by the bedside as Spike fell asleep. 

He had just done an act which, in his wildest dreams, he should not have performed! He fell to his knees beside the bedside, overcome by a sense of delayed guilt. He had *taken* an invalid, a friend! Accepted blood, given it, then engaged in an act not of penetration but stimulation with a body that had barely moved for months and he was trying to make well. … but it *still* had felt… right.

A minute or so later, Spike rolled *voluntarily* for the first time and he drawled, in a very rough from lack of use, baritone voice, “Wh… took you s’ long! Than’s… Luv…Y… Hummmpf… blood’sferthegirlbyth… payback… I… ffffffff”

The ill vampire gave up and let his body sleep. But something had definitely changed, and the following afternoon’s cocktail of milk, Xander blood and O positive had a more ‘vampiric’ healing response... and he managed to make a fist, with both hands!

The night of its donation, Willow drank the blood of the Master Vampire slowly. It had been mixed in with the two half litre bottles of water she was compelled to consume each day before lunch. Her renewed magical state responded to the gift and that day in therapy, with full support from two attending helpers, she put her feet on the ground and was eased forward to standing. It was not by herself yet of course, but… Despite the severe tremors in too weak legs Xander and Clem were both witness to the event and hugged her soundly after she was eased back onto her double bed that now also contained three tiny sleeping girls on a near permanent basis.

There was still the problem of her wide eyed staring, apparent nightmares (which resulted in catatonia rather than thrashing), and her fair level of detachment from everything… but lately even to the help she did seem… better. 

Clem was always the optimist, reassuring Xander at every opportunity, “She’ll be happier when she’s up and around! C’mon buddy… Three rounds and I win back that little white one from you…”

An hour later saw Clem with his prized blue eyed deaf kitten tucked under a floppy arm fold about to head out, and Xander checking on a sleeping Spike before finding a quiet spot with the phone. 

Before dialling, he sent a prayer to Gaia, the Powers, to any deity willing to help, that their ‘family’ strange as it was, might be well again.

A male voice answered.

“Who dares call the Well?”

“Giles?... Um… it’s Xander… I’ve got… Oh thank G#%$ it’s you…”

 

Part 4

The only answer he got was ‘Good lord… is everything alright?”

As Xander began the rather epic tale of the last few months, the relatively new Battle Brand lifted a leather and mail covered arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. It was the only time since his changed from human that Giles truly wished he still needed glasses. The comforting habit of a lifetime, polishing his glasses, was now lost to him as his sight was as acute as any night or day creature, as was his hearing and sense of smell, in his new immortal form. 

The isolation of his abode had been rather comforting after the catastrophic events surrounding the First and consequent fallout - the Council, Hellmouth, turmoil at the Coven after Willow returned then disappeared again, and of course training the new Watchers. The cave was warm, with candle lit tones, soft, and silent. Buffy had commented that it was no wonder he applied for the gig – once a librarian, always a librarian.

If only anyone knew… Giles had not volunteered, but rather… found himself at the door to Well one evening. A sense of urgency saw him compelled to take a London taxi ride to a remote spot, walk to the tree, then enter the fissure that seemed to open. And as he had proceeded down a long tunnel lit by torches, he registered a rather baseline humming he was sure was a recording of Tibetan monks… 

The compulsion to keep going was irrational but unmistakable. He made it to the bridge and stared down in wonder at the stacks of sarcophagi. He knew this place from legend, but had never imagined… the opening of another ‘tree cave’ on the other side of the bridge had called him to ender. And once inside, he felt overcome with fatigue all of a sudden and sat heavily on the single simple wooden chair by the rounded wall, before registering a shadowy figure in his presence. “I am Drogan, the Battle Brand incumbent, now no longer of this earth. The memories of many have named you hero and worthy my mantel. I now see the truth for myself, you are indeed the one. So take this your sword and the seal of the Brand. Bear them proudly and suffer no fools. Yours is a noble task.” 

With that, Giles had been magically immobilized, rather embarrassingly stripped of his modern day clothing and dressed by a group of what could only be described as rather pretentious knights from a variety of eras, none of whom seemed to speak English. He was then eased back onto a set of sleeping skins, and felt incredibly drowsy. Within minutes he assailed by dream after disturbing dream. 

By the end of the night he possessed all the memories of Brands past, each one living for over a millennia, and knew now that the longevity would be his fate also. He felt changed in other ways. Still kindly and wise, from that moment on, he chose to remain in the Well, actively avoided contact with others and when someone did successfully approach, the dialogue was abrupt, brief and not without frustration. Giles, like all Battle Brands before him, was condemned to always speaking the truth.

His immortal body needed no sustenance but that which brought a little pleasure, like a good cup of tea. And there was no need for ablutions, though an occasional deep bath heated over an open fire occasionally brought enjoyment. The only modern convenience in his ancient abode was a phone linked to the coven network by a very determined Watcher, Andrew upon learning of his “Guru’s awesome, *awesome* change”, though following it there was little reason to use said device as coven and Council got on with its business, and others had little reason to contact him. Giles never felt inclined to ring out, and had received exactly three calls in three years. Xander’s was the third. 

Giles was silent all the time the ex Scoobie spoke. He knew Xander was upset, but also felt… humbled that the young man he knew, not so many years ago, was now a father, in tragic circumstances at the end… and was somehow making the best of it.

“So what do you need or want of me Xander?”

“I um… nothing… I guess… well yes… I just… I don’t know… I’m a father Giles! A father to Willow and a lover… of Spike… I’m Gay and a Dad… and both the people I care about are magical and damaged *so* badly and there was Wolfram and Hart and the Old One Illyria and that’s… Oh Ghodd… Nothing… just needed to tell someone I guess. Can you just tell me what you think I should do?”

“My dear boy, I can now only speak the truth. Spike’s progress? I have no access to other realms though it does appear that Illyria is no longer of this dimension. I have no idea the power he might have absorbed in her last moments nor why he did not dust… As for dear Willow, she cannot return to her previous self, but she is still your friend. Be loving to both and allow them to feed of each other and you.”

Uncharacteristically there were no niceties to finish, the call simply shut off and Xander was left feeling just a little too alone. He smiled at the nurse who was tucking Willow’s right breast away, yet another expressing complete, ready for Spike’s mid evening meal. The girls were all (obviously) asleep and Willow smiled weakly at her observer then assisted as she rolled to face the crib, the kind carer all the while congratulating her for expressing ‘all by yourself this time’.

Xander flopped onto the bed. He had hoped Giles would have the answers… particularly about Illyria and Spike, but it was not to be. As the days rolled on and his girls grew and Spike’s condition improved slowly, he would continue to worry but had other issues afoot.

They really did need to move out of Clem’s home, but when it was discussed, Clem dismissed it out of hand, claiming he enjoyed the company. A compromise was eventually reached when the apartment above his basement one came up for lease. It was ideal – having a small enclosed yard and at ground level. Plus (with the landlord’s permission) a set of internal steps were installed by Xander, with the consequent effect of virtually doubling their living space and giving Clem back his privacy… particularly as he had ‘met someone’ recently.

They needed money, and frankly Xander needed something to distract him from the endless caring task so applied to do some casual work at a trade school teaching basic woodwork to adults – his credentials were impeccable in terms of industry experience, people skills wonderful and he did find being away from the hubbub that was home… helpful… the latest sight of Willow and Spike still struggling to stand and walk a few steps during their therapy sessions finding him shedding private tears and thankful to focus on something more inane like lessons in mitring.

Spike’s recovery was painfully slow for a vampire, but it was happening. His speech had improved, as had horizontal ‘abilities’ and Xander began to wonder how he could possibly have put up with a live human male for occasional carnal pleasure in the past as nightly he rode with his cool lover to sexual mind blowing climaxes, afterward resting together in quiet bliss with an innate sense that this was forever.

Willow was the greater worry as the weeks progressed and she increasingly acted like a petulant child, refusing to do her exercises and pushing away her food. The only thing she did was feed her children and express for Spike, but otherwise showed little or no interest in anything, opting for lying on her bed facing away from any who might enter again. Her physical condition began to wane again.

When asked she kept mumbling tearfully “Too hard!! An’ me… me this!” She would then roll with effort and kept lifting one of the many loose comfortable T-shirts of Xander’s she insisted on wearing and poke at her still stretch marked belly, pointed to the girls then insisting “It’s all… I’m… Why no!??”

As often as he could, he took his treasured, damaged friend, the mother of his children, into his arms, hugging her close to give comfort and let his own tears drip into her hair. He had a healing vampire (his unexpected new lover), three children, and a life, and Willow was loved and looked after and that wouldn’t change but still seemed… Lost.

Xander engaged a sympathetic psychiatrist (again through Clem’s connections). He came with a team, and Willow was slightly sedated, restrained, then examined physically, psychiatrically, and magically.

The verdict was damning. So much damage had been done to her, and Xander’s determination to shut down the ‘research’ unit of Wolfram and Hart – and anything else he could – absolute.

The white haired doctor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Xander knew that sign. It was bad, when Giles did that it had always been bad.

“Mr Harris, I ahhh… Please understand that I um… I appreciate the background history of the last few years with your ::cough:: wife… A most distressing tale. And I am also somewhat aware of the research establishment where she was housed… only on an academic basis of course – fascinating findings regards space travel…”

The doctor’s rather too cheerful tone had Xander’s demeanour shifting to dark. He instantly wanted to kill the man. Spike was behind him seated in his wheelchair, and despite his own limitations, let his demon loose and growled audibly.

The doctor shifted a little uncomfortably, waved away his staff (who made a *very fast* exit with all their equipment) then continued a little more tentatively, “Yes well… Mr Harris, the draining of her magical essence, as it were, for such a long time – along with the obvious sensory deprivation, drug therapy and physical ::ahemm:: strains and alterations… have left her rather, and I *am* trying to put this gently… compromised… but I think it goes a little deeper than that.”

“I suspect she no longer views herself as anything more than a vessel for reproduction, after all when you [ahem] purchased her, she was already in the very final month of her fourth (?) pregnancy.”

“Her magic will obviously need retraining – and I would recommend that she join your daughters at the most basic level of tuition when they begin – and they are wonderfully healthy magically inclined humans by the way. But magic aside, much like her walking, which by the way I congratulate your remedial team for their progress with her…”

Clem preened a little and grinned his genuine pride across to the two women at the back of the examination room, his cousin Marg and niece Cathy, who were currently holding three rather upset little girls beginning to fuss for a feed.

“Willow… Mr Harris… Willow has suffered three years of the most extreme levels of sensory and other deprivations, and deliberate removal of well… everything. While she continues to feed the girls, which I do recommend, I really can only recommend one or two antidepressant drugs that will fail to be passed through her milk to the children, but in cases like this… given… Mr Harris, let me be frank. I wonder if you would consider an alternative… along with her magical and physical therapy.

“Willow is a fertile female, and has been altered so much by experience and treatments that her body *needs* the boost that comes with a normal human pregnancy. And as the girls become more independent and now her menses have recommenced may I suggest that… and I have never said this to a client before… but it really does appear that it is in her best interests to be pregnant. She has the mothering instincts that would make a brown bear proud despite her extreme limitations; it will boost her hormones enormously which may well benefit her physical recovery; and she will have the experience of a normal pregnancy in a loving environment. I really do believe it is the most likely strategy to improve her physical and mental state.” 

Spike was listening from the darkened space in the hallway and growled audibly. The doctor knew of William the Bloody so finished swiftly as he made for the door – the vampire might be in a wheel chair, but he had seen it before when vampires were suitably annoyed – anything was possible.

As he departed he added, “Mr Harris *please* reassure your vampire…friend. This is not about *breeding* per se, but rather, being with child in a loving, normal physical environment for the entire term of a pregnancy. It might just be the trigger for her to return to a better state of mind! Consider it… oh and if you need a donor I am happy to…”

He didn’t get to finish, Xander stopped Spike’s chair as his vampire began to fly forward, and ‘Mr Harris’ simply growled, “No need. Thanks but you’d better… Cheque ‘ll be in the mail.” 

 

Part 5

 

A day later, Willow was still teary, but still her carer did the usual exercises, fed her, then gently assisted as she tried, yet again to walk *pushing* her chair, for the last “Just ten Willow thaaats it just *ten* steps.” 

Three happy children were already rolling on the picnic rug as their mother was gently lowered beside them. Her legs were getting stronger but the assistance was appreciated… and yet she couldn’t help but cry… Even after the doctor’s kind words as she was examined, she knew she was all wrong. She felt… like she was still missing something. As her milk dropped again and Maisie was first to the feast, there was a moment of clarity and a tiny moment of hope.

She was in the sun, warm, fed and… now in the presence of others who… loved her. A slight breeze reminded her she was outside again. It was a pleasant sensation as her bare, very pale legs soaked up a little of the springtime sunshine. She stroked little Maisie, pulled her off the teat and rolled the other way to feed Sadie. Belatedly she noted that her third – the adventurous Lucy, was at the edge of the rug, had pulled up a handful of grass and was currently pushing a fist of it into her mouth. She managed to stretch her arm, grab an ankle and tug the little one onto the mat again. Her kind carer did the rest, dancing red eyes and Mell’s soprano voice ‘blessing’ Willow and congratulating her for being such an attentive mother. 

Her children defined her now, she knew that. She tried to formulate other thoughts but all that led to was memories of the fluid and… she was crying again… Maisie was removed, as were the other girls, she was rolled onto her side and had her back rubbed! She hadn’t meant to cry… it was just… she couldn’t seem to stop lately.

Xander had only just arrived home from his workplace. His satchel was full of rather averagely drawn ‘visual diaries’ and plans for the ‘Side tables assignment’ he had to mark.

He could see Willow and the girls on the rug outside, and wondered. Another child would not be so hard. In vitro fertilization and surrogacy was quite the rage for the ‘gay’ community these days… and this would be for her, not him. 

Spike was now almost well enough for them to approach the Schweizer Bank in Geneva and start to manage some of the Aurelian funds to help their situation. And the vampire obviously loved the children, lately delighting in them crawling all over him if he lay still enough on the lounge room floor, and even choosing to ‘work out’ his arm muscles and improving dexterity by feeding apple sauce to hungry mouths (though still favouring his chair and needing to roll back and forth in front of three identical high chairs).

The words of the doctor had been weighing heavily on Xander all day, but as he threw his bag next to the hatstand at their front door, he spied a scene that made his heart leap. Spike was standing, apparently casually leaning against the doorframe of the hall, dressed in a pair of pre aged jeans, (and Xander *would* reward Clem monetarily later for that!), and with an unlit cigarette between his lips.

The “Don’t figure you’ve got a light?” would have been *so* much more effective if said vampire hadn’t suddenly shifted needed to steady himself, consequently threw to game face and growled “Oh Bugger!” as he tried to grab for something to prevent a fall.

Xander caught him on the way down, ending in a heap of relieved but loving male... flesh in the middle of the hall.

Spike looked up with those clear blue eyes Xander remembered from his wet dreams long past before rolling and lifting Spike over him into a warm hug. They lay together for a few minutes before a set of dark blonde curls began to move and was pulled from the reverie by an indignant, rather muffled “Should o’ known you twonk! Needed a fag and all you give is a warm lap t’ lie in!”

It was the salve Xander needed. 

His lover was not yet able to walk unassisted, but the mouth, the humour, the… He leant down, kissed the healing vamp soundly then gently eased him to the floor and stood up.

“Oi!!!! Leave a bloke horizontal and needy in the hallway. Bloody…”

“Just home from work… Gotta… get a beer and check on the kids… If you’re still interested I’ll be in the bedroom in ten.”

He winked back at the prone Spike then walked out into the sunshine to get the ‘report’ from the carer, rub Willow’s back and kiss her chastely, then lie on the mat, and play for a time with ‘his girls’. These days they gurgled, giggled, and responded so wonderfully. In a way he wished Willow would do the same. 

As he blew raspberries on Sadie’s tiny belly and tickled Lucy until she squirmed, he could not help but notice. It was Nurse Susie that was milking Willow, and she was crying again. He *had* to do something.

He kissed her forehead as he rose to go inside, whispered “Remember, we *all* love you.” then returned to his own bedroom where Spike, annoyed and aroused by the effort to pull himself to their shared space then strip… was to prove his solace. 

He found the vampire semi nude, lying on their now shared bed, jeans open and erection proud. The vampire’s legs might not yet work fully, but there was certainly feeling coming and the ‘up and centre’ equipment apparently needed only memories of the night before being fully functional!

Xander had had a long day, had spoken to two different ‘artificial insemination’ experts, agreed to working as a teacher for another semester and tried ineffectually to reassure and cheer the broken mother of his children. 

Yet now… now his wonderful newly discovered friend, partner, vampire, kissed him with a passion that would melt stone and accepted him into his body for the third time in the week. And afterwards Xander let himself be ‘broken’ for a while, while Spike caressed and purred and reassured. The boy from Sunnydale yearned for the day when it was he who might be entered, truly looked after by another. In truth Xander had been the bottom when he first experimented with Hugh, riding his first partner under instruction and finding joy until his ‘friend’ went off and… there was no point dwelling. 

The one eyed brunette resolved suggest a ride tomorrow but for the moment enjoyed holding his partner’s inanimate legs over his shoulders and watched his vampire fall into gameface as he give in to bliss. The bite and pull on his offered wrist was the icing every cake deserved.

In the afterglow they hugged and quietly, slowly discussed the doctor’s verdict for Willow and Giles, The Battle Brand Rupert’s message in the context of the whole ‘family’.

A day later, Xander sat gingerly on Willow’s outside rug, the girls were asleep. It was her rest time. Her drink bottle had been ‘Spiked’ *literally*… so she felt strangely more like… well more ‘here’ than on some other days... 

Xander pulled his long time friend’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it lovingly before shifting a little closer to her on the blanket and sharing the afternoon sun. He looked over to the darkened doorway where his wonderful, still recovering partner was trapped in the shadows, and in that horrid chair (for much of the time). But Spike’s rue smile gave him the strength to go on with the conversation.

“I um… I’ve made some enquiries… regards… Wills it might be the way to go but…”

Willow struggled out, “Xan! All… I… Pleasssss,” then patted her empty abdomen again and when no more words would come, began to cry again then nodded profusely, with teary gratitude, as he told her of the suggestion by the specialist - that it was wise for her to carry a child once more.

“ Wills… it *will* be yours and mine again… I promise… and I’m sorry but I don’t… I don’t know how to help any other way! And he said you needed it. Oh G@# Wills you are my oldest, my best friend… So *please* if you think this is wrong in *any* way… we won’t… *Promise*…. But… ”

She looked at him with relief and simply nodded, then for the first time since he found her, the mother of his children, formerly the most powerful witch on the planet, reached up, pulled him down, whispered “Thank you” then kissed him on the lips.

A day later, she was injected with hormones. Four days after that, under light sedation, several eggs were gathered, and a tearful Xander was stimulated by his reclining lover who caught his spilt seed in a receptacle, claiming this new one “…is mine as well!” 

Spike comforted his lover as the procedure went ahead. The egg(s!) were fertilized and two ‘viable’ ones implanted. Both would take.

It only took twelve days to confirm the pregnancy, and to discover that the new regime of real food and normal human pregnancy pressures would find the mother for the very first time, suffering morning sickness…

Despite the nausea, for Willow there were bonuses beyond the obvious. 

Like many MS sufferers, she also seemed to have her reflexes and speech improve marginally each day of her new pregnancy. Her doctor put it down to the specialized anti depressants she was now on, and the bizarre way some women’s bodies responded to pregnancy hormones. The small amounts of vampire blood meant that other things had also marginally improved and she was *sure* she could occasionally *hear* the two tiny fluttering heart beats. 

This time around she had asked, she *knew* who was the father, and was free to move as a normal woman might… Her girls grew and fed and played and were played with. And when Spike was asleep and Xander at work, she spent time between her ongoing therapy with her girls. She was now able to crawl with them, not as fast as them of course, but well enough. She was also able to walk pushing something along, walking without a support still an issue and steps or any uneven surface definitely off limits.

This time, her body responded to each new phase as though it was the first time. Her greatest thrill and largest source of stress being an almost incapacitating back ache whenever she stood. By the fifth month carrying twins, her standing and even assisted walking was beginning to falter. Knees and particularly spine were just not conditioned. The wheelchair was back for much of the time. 

Her daily routine now included a bath and massaged after, before she snoozed in the afternoon sun while her own girls rested inside. Her back and knees should improve after delivery but the doctor now suggested that she was unlikely ever to be rid of her new walker. It was dark red, had wheels, a basket, flip down seat, and hand brakes. *She* had chosen it in a night time shopping trip that saw all the family (including Clem and new fellow demon girlfriend Noreen) visiting a local shopping mall for the first time. With two wheelchairs, a triple stroller, two demons, Nurse Susan and Xander they were quite a group. Clem and Noreen dressed to cover some of their more obvious features but even so.

 

Willow knew, as panic set in when they first arrived at the mall. She still had *so* far to go, she knew that, but now as she watched Xander surreptitiously wipe a little dribble of milk froth from the corner of Spike’s mouth and suck the finger as though it were the most divine of prizes, she relaxed a little.

The fact that she was likely to need the walker for all time was such a small thing compared to the momentous event of going to the mall and even a food hall… The girls had their own food courtesy of Nurse Susan (and the supermarket baby food isle) and as Willow sipped on her Mocca carefully on a shared table with her dear friends and family, she felt the babies inside her move again… and for the first time in four years, a little of the happy innocent, Willow Rosenberg of Sunnydale, ‘came back’.

Part 6

Two months on saw a very different household to the one of Willow’s early pregnancy.

Clem was on holidays ‘down South’. His new squeeze was apparently a die hard fan of Dolly Parton (Spike did point out a certain physical attribute that might explain why – and it *wasn’t* Noreen’s voice!). They were to be away for at least six weeks and choosing what even Xander agreed was the ‘tacky tour’ of the South! It mattered not a jot, and Clem had looked entirely embarrassed when he opened the ‘Have a great time’ card to find a thousand dollars in cash from the grateful family upstairs.

After all Clem had done for them, the money was a drop in the ocean as far as Xander was concerned. And Clem would never know that to do it Xander had taken a second job as a ‘chippy’ on a building site just to make ends meet. His teaching load for the semester was four afternoons and a Saturday morning so the building site was ideal. He left his snoozing vampire after a few hour’s sleep, checked on his girls then drove to the site around five thirty in the morning, was finished by around two, popped in to check on the family and shower, then headed to the community college, his navy college logo ‘polo’ and smart grey pants in place, and college issue, work-safety apron and goggles at the ready.

It should have been easy, but with the soon to be mother of his boys and his dear vampire still needing support of an evening when he arrived home around eight, he said nothing, just enjoyed the nights the little ones were still up, Willow following Nurse (now Nanny!) Susan’s suggestion, and bedding the girls for an extra sleep late afternoon just so Daddy could have his time with the now toddling youngsters.

He was the perfect Dad. Regardless of his own needs, he would *always* try to give time to his lovely girls. He would drop his bag at the door and grace the floor wherever they were playing. The three little girls were all starting to walk, toddling around pulling at things, sitting hard and crying if their fall was forward. More often than not Spike was somewhere nearby which suited Xander fine. Willow was (these days) usually in her recliner chair or wheelchair, her back and legs simply unable to cope with a full day of activity in these latter stages of her pregnancy. 

Dinner had become rather the ‘event’. Spike was now walking with “Just a little assistance… bloody hell! Every gent back in the day had a cane!” And a very pregnant Willow, increasingly incapacitated despite her therapy (dangerously high blood pressure and blood sugar pointing to things no one wanted to face) was in her own powered wheelchair though told everyone that the waiting walker would be mastered as soon as the boys came, all being well. 

Until their ‘pre honeymoon… honeymoon’, Clem and Noreen had usually joined them, but now the swinging hatch door to the basement was closed other than when his two sisters or Nurse Susan chose to be included (which was… at least a couple of times a week, truth be told.)

Coming in ‘after class’ Xander always did the same ritual with Willow, he would play with the girls for a time then simply sit with her, lift and kiss the back of each of her hands and ask her about her day, then wait patiently as a slow answer came in her trademark monotone. 

Regardless of words she would give him her best smile and inevitably pull his hand to her belly, trying to convey her pride and happiness to be carrying their children. She loved the look on his face if one or two of the boys moved with the contact, and was always grateful for the now habitual squeeze to her hand, words of love and comfort, and chaste kiss to her forehead before he attended his other charge. 

The worst nights were when the girls had already gone to bed, but in a sense were also the best as ‘Dad’ would kiss his three sleeping beauties then join his lover and his friend in the lounge room. Usually the three adults would simply sit together and watch something on television, but on occasion, Spike would offer to read, or quiet music and reflection was the choice. 

Whichever happened, Xander, more often than not, with reheated dinner half eaten and light beer now empty, was found asleep on the couch within the hour.

Spike was able to push Willow’s chair to her room, and with both their efforts, could lever her into bed and tuck her in, but lifting Xander and carrying him to their joint resting place was not an option. 

So the pattern went, Spike would ‘put Willow away’, then return to remove any detritus evident from the meal and prod his lover gently until he roused. If nothing happened, he would ease himself onto the lounge and snuggle (if he could) next to his dear one pulling one or two throw rugs over them. Even though by nature a nocturnal creature, Spike’s healing body was still more than able to snooze the night away in his lover’s embrace, but he instinctively knew, his lover needed more.

Spike was on the improve, still not back to even human abilities… but mentally all there… and demon wise also. And it was his demon who felt it first.

With her condition, Spike had refused Willow’s milk but as Xander and his relationship ‘consolidated’ they exchanged more and more blood. In a week that saw the out of date human blood *all* rancid, and choosing to stay hungry, Spike had *really* tasted it. Things were definitely wrong. In his semi slumber state Xander gave and received blood in an exchange that was something he now craved, but in that same process admitting the truth, grief, longing, guilt, exhaustion, fear.

 

That was two nights ago so now, after dinner the pattern changed a little. Nurse Susan bathed both Willow and her girls (and yes it was a bit crowded and certainly busy) and Spike sought out his rescuer and cornered an exhausted Xander on their shared bed.

Spike was tired too lately, his recovering body tested as he took on the mantel of favoured uncle whenever he was able around the girls, but what he observed in his dear lover, wasn’t just fatigue. Their lovemaking of late has petered almost to nothing, not because of lack of adoration, but simply Xander’s exhaustion. The waning libido was less worrying than the grey, drawn look of the brunette’s face as he returned from yet another shift, or tried desperately to stay awake for evening adult time. 

The sight from their bedroom door was a human face down sprawled across the covers in his faded, very worn ‘Calvin Klein boy-legs'. He was apparently asleep, but when Spike approached touched his arm and face and there was no movement his partner was bordering on frantic. 

Still not strong enough to carry his lover on foot, he opted for the chair, eased his partner from the bed in a rather awkward move that included the chair brake, a hand hold on the bed head and a rather too sudden tug of a body into a rarely inanimate lap, Spike could hear it. The breathing was too laboured, the heartbeat too fast and the skin too lax.

Spike manoeuvred his chair to the phone in the lounge and called a now off duty Nurse Susan for help. She had seen it coming with the too hardworking head of the household, but was still touched by Spike’s switch of ‘caree’ to carer. She listened to the described symptoms and knew the seriousness of the call, so rang the family doctor before returning to the home.

Spike fed his lover a little vampire blood, easing it down the unconscious throat with some astute massaging.

An ambulance was called shortly after the doctor’s visit, and a three day stint in hospital saw Willow and Spike beside themselves with worry (not least of which was due to not being able to visit due to their physical state), but also rallying and calling in some very overdue favours.

Spike *dragged* Willow into the adult conversation with the threat of their protector’s demise, demanded that she drink of him, then used the ensuing lucidity to “bloody well sort things”!

Spike and Xander had filled out all the paperwork for the Aurelian funds as soon as Spike was able to speak clearly and sign for it. But Xander had worried that the funds were finite, that they would be better used for Spike’s future and the children’s than dipped into for their time now. As a consequence, Xander like Clem before him, had only ever sold a few baubles of Spike’s (*with permission*) to raise the bond for their apartment and to ‘tide them over’ for a few months when things were difficult and multiple helpers needed paying. 

With his own ongoing therapy and recovery, Spike had let it go, now kicking himself that he could have done more… would do more.

Willow had been crying on and off for almost a whole day, terrified that their protector was going to die. The girls had been in Nurse Susan’s constant care, and she seemed almost in complete meltdown when Spike’s frustration caused him to bare his fangs and growl in a tone and loud enough that the apartment was instantly silent, before the girls began to cry hysterically and Nanny Susan swiftly slammed the bedroom door.

The roar had the required affect, and despite her babies’ crying, Willow seemed to be fully lucid for a change.

Spike told her of his intention to pull half the Aurelian funds and begin to invest it in Xander’s name and on behalf of the children to try to alleviate some of the pressure on their dear head of household. At some point during the speech, Willow began shaking her head profusely and banging her hand on the arm of her wheelchair to get his attention. Eventually it worked, Spike waited and a laboured voice began, “In…vest… *mine*… too!”

Spike stared at her as though she really had grown another head all of a sudden. 

“What ‘mine’?? Bloody Wolf, Ram and Hart will have annexed the Rosenberg ‘fortune’ for sure! What, you think they would have just let you stay in their little facility without covering all bases??” 

The frustrated vampire was about to turn away but Willow banged her chair again, so he gave her time. “O’…ma… Kitz..inger… Trussst… Me… just need… Only… claim it… over… twenty one…”

“Run that by me again? Your gran set up a fund for you?” 

Willow nodded then let a tear fall, and looked at the ceiling. 

She couldn’t remember the number… she knew she should, she’d been taught from six years of age… she should know… it *must* come… sometime… it *would* come. The needed paperwork would be at the bank but anything Sunnydale bound, destroyed… but that wouldn’t matter, and for the first time Willow knew something Wolfram and Hart could not, and turned to Spike in amazement… Some of her past might just be safe. 

Oma Kitzinger was no ordinary grandmother, and her assets, dating back seven generations across Russia, Finland, Germany and finally Switzerland were an astutely invested sum for the ‘first daughter of the first daughter’ of the… (and pretty much anyone got the message from there ;-)

The result was Willow’s remembering the name of the bank, Banca Raiffeisen – Geneva, Switzerland, slowly related the information, and had Spike almost falling off his chair. “Bloody hell Pet, you’re old grandma didn’t mess about! So let’s us get this on a roll… Kitzinger… and Willow? And what set up at birth say 1979?” 

Willow nodded profusely then arched out of her chair a little with a sharp pain near her ribs as a small person inside pressed a tiny elbow against something inside. Spike heard the heart rate increase again and worried that the current discussion was too much, then registered the slight sigh of relief as the little one shifted again and the pressure was, literally, off.

He turned back to the damaged white witch and continued to wait patiently.

“O’ma… false sur…name… didn’t… like… my dad!” Willow snorted and gave a begging look as though to ask for reassurance. She got none as Spike’s face looked hopeful then went suddenly game face.

“Got their fingers in a lot ‘a pies Wolfram and bloody Hart… what’s to say they didn’t grab that too… or know it’s you if you try to touch it!?”

Willow was openly crying now, “Had… to… [hic] believe… but don’t [hic] know… just don’t [hic] know! [hic] but I wanted… Ohhh….” 

She threw herself back in her chair, one hand over her eyes and the other on her stomach and let grief take over… grief for her grandmother who had died when she was twelve years old; grief for her parents and their joint demise in a light plane accident during (of all things) a joy flight to celebrate their thirtieth anniversary – she was in Brazil at the time; and her grief for now her own limitations and the worry for the family. 

Willow’s words might now be slower, slurred and through sobbed efforts but were still unmistakeable in their content, “Send me back… wait for [hic] these boys but then it’s OK… me… wrong now but… They’re Xan’s! The girls…” There were no more words, just gesticulations and heaving sobs, before Spike heard her heart rate rise impossibly with a corresponding response from the two children she carried.

Spike’s demeanour instantly shifted as he realized her very real distress. 

Spike remembered this fear. He’d done it for so long… and knew his own feeling of helplessness when a fragile loved one needed comfort but he needed them to just keep going - Mother, Dru, Dawn, Fred, even Angel… and the number of nights he had… he tried to blot it all out.

Without thought Spike found himself on his knees in front of her chair, her hands pulled to his chest with his left, and his right wrist open and against her lips *begging* her to drink, whispering, “C’mon Pet… drink a little then just… let it out… breathe it out… give it all to me… I need ya Willow…” and kept going with a series of random words of endearment he could come up with much like he would have done with Dru, and silently thanked any sappy poet or song writer he had quoted, as he heard Willow’s heart rate steady and the babies stabilize. 

Spike saw the eyes open and pressed the advantage… “No one here’s lettin’ you go back, for any reason, so get that outa your pretty noggin once and for all!...” He held her for a bit longer then started again, “That’s it Sweet thing… there’s the calm, now what do we do about Xan? C’mon Pet... stay with me… The father of you bubbies is needin’ our help… let’s us do this… You want him around for a while yet yeah? Way he’s goin’ he’ll kill ‘imself with work and the alternative… Well, sure as hell I don’t fancy turnin’ the bugger whilst you can’t plonk that soul right back in!!”

Willow looked pained at the last statement but seemed to rally, took a hitched breath, and said quietly, “Keep… writing.”

She continued slowly, Spike taking dictation then as she finished and relaxed back into her chair, he picked up the phone for an exchange Willow simply could not believe.

William, the accountant/solicitor had not left when the demon moved in, and a hundred plus years of living in Europe had certain other advantages as Spike found himself in conversation with his own bank regards setting up a fund then to another on behalf of Willow, and thanked the powers or whoever that his strength might still be coming, but his speech was as good as ever. With perfect French, decent Italian and enough German to get himself into trouble (but perhaps not out of it), he spoke to a variety of managers at Banca Raiffeisen in Geneva, to their head office and their legal department on behalf of his ‘client’.

With none of her Grandmother’s documents available courtesy of the Sunnydale end, and not wanting to push Willow’s identity back onto the Wolfram and Hart dial with an information search, Spike was worried their efforts were about to fail, without the account number and password there was no way there was able to be any access to the trust. 

Spike was so involved in the conversation that he almost missed Willow banging the chair arm again. He asked the man to hold while the witch closed her eyes, focused every bit of her energy on remembering then as he took a punt and pushed the handset of the phone to the correct position against her ear and mouth, she recited, “55470-9741… LILYK1979”.

Spike was frantically writing as Willow spoke. She smiled as she finished. A genuine, half embarrassed Sunnydale Willow smile – as though she had just finished her schoolgirl babble. Spike jumped back on the phone and in his most conciliatory of tones said in the French the current bank consultant had addressed him in “I am happy to read the numbers again in French if you wish… my friend is not fluent.”

The answer was surprisingly from a supervisor who addressed Spike in heavily accented rather patronizing English, “I… this is…. Your client is American so though she has an account with us we will need her to scribe…”

Spike was stressed enough and struggled to be polite, greeted the new voice with a formal “Guten Morgen Herr Meier” then switched back to formal English, “It would therefore be most helpful if you forward me a Fax of the needed documents attached… I will happily have my client sign them in her current hand – limited as it may be. Though I am sure the details will adequately assure you that this is a genuine claim from a woman who is now in great need of the funds.”

There was a meaningful pause, “Fielen Dank… Herr Aurelius… aber… Wir sind seinen…”

Spike filled in the rest, this time in the manager’s preferred tongue of German. In the end they were chatting in friendly tones and the task was made simple. Willow’s slowness of signature was of little concern – the accuracy was, her credentials were confirmed, and a grandmother’s legacy signed over – or rather transferred to a more accessible account allowing investment and high interest opportunities.

On the same evening a still pale Xander was released from hospital into his family’s care, to be coddled and loved, close to seventeen million dollars in total (seven from the Aurelians and *ten* from Willow’s trust) entered a fund that would see the “Lavelle-Kitzinger and Co”, investment account established. It was owned by a small family interest based in Luxemburg (a piece of history that saw ‘William Aurelius’ somehow still owning property in said nation state). 

The favours called in by Spike were more to do with decent demon brokers who shifted the funds: a third equity, a third property, a third shares… Dubai or Delhi or Dublin, it really didn’t matter the brief was to invest in things that would continue to grow for a *very* long time. Not immune to European law there would be some taxes of course, but Spike was careful in his dealings, very, very careful… with his meticulous eye there was no track back for Wolfram and Hart unless one of the signatories did something very silly. The end result was Willow feeling that she was finally contributing, Spike rather proud of himself, and pleased with the end result, and an alternate income that should find Xander even work free should he wish it.

After Xander was welcomed with relieved enthusiasm and tucked into bed, Spike eased his still limited, very pregnant, friend from chair to her bed after dripping blood into the water bottle that was ever present these days. She held onto his hand like a lifeline as she lay back, thanking him again and again. 

As he turned out the lights he found his own head spinning and his legs finally gave out. 

He slowly crawled back to Willow’s chair hauled himself up and pushed the controls so similar to the ones he had needed in the months before. Easing himself from chair to bed, he belatedly realized that he had slept only a little and eaten nothing for the whole time Xander was in hospital. A fully fit Master vampire might survive that easily… it emphasised his ‘condition’ yet again. 

He snuggled close to his still slightly sedated and sleeping lover, relieved to note the strong heart beat and clearing breathing. He made a mental note to apologise to Willow for stealing her chair and fell asleep.

 

Part 7

Xander was still recovering several days later. Spike had called the community college shortly after Xander’s collapse, so rang again to give them an update - Xander insisting that he would be back the following Monday. The Director of Studies, one rather portly, bottle blonde, Patch Dixon, could be officious and rather overbearing at times, but had a particular soft spot for the father of three, having learned of his wife’s physical limitations after a brain injury as she was introduced to the triplets and Willow one afternoon as she happened to bump into him being ‘dropped off’ by Nurse Susan. 

When William who had come out to help his brother and family with the situation (assumed) rang that the college for the second time, Ms Dixon was very keen to state that they had no intention of terminating Mr Harris’s contract, indeed encouraged William to pass on the message that there was a permanent tenure available should Xander wish it. Apparently the students in his course were not only keen that he should return, but also overwhelmingly enthusiastic regards his teaching, and their finished works were quite the talk of the college, (better still, enrolments were up twelve percent for his course for the coming term).

Relieved that the college wouldn’t sack him for his extended absence, and genuinely embarrassed when a huge bunch of flowers and ‘get well’ card arrived from his current students, Xander was even more surprised when his building supervisor, Rick arrived at his ‘temp subbie’s’ home.

It was late afternoon, so Spike answered the door dressed in jeans and a t-shirt but looking a little dishevelled after his ‘tussle’ on the floor with the girls whilst Nanny Susan saw to Willow’s needs (her ability to manage going to the toilet solo an impossibility now, and incontinence pads though used at night these days, were still a source of angst).

“I’ve um…. I thought this was Xander Harris’s place.”

Spike was immediately ‘Mr Manners’, even if the accent was quintessential Spike. 

“’Course it is, Mate! I um…! Come in… Come in.” Spike held out a pale hand and shook the broad calloused one of Xander’s occasional boss. 

“William… Xan’s… half brother… English… obviously, but don’t let that deter ya! Sorry ‘bout the mess. Girls ‘n me just muckin’ about for a bit, whilst the nurse sees to their mum.”

And as Rick introduced himself and was ushered inside, he didn’t fail to notice the ridiculously pale demeanour of the friend, nor his need for a cane to get about. He had an awkward ‘staring’ moment, but as if on cue, a squeal from the lounge room followed by something making a worrying thump had Spike saying “Oi you lot! ‘Scuse me for a sec” abandoning the guest in the hallway. It was followed by a rather exasperated, “Oh bloody hell, not again!”

Rick had his own children (albeit now in their teens and saw them only on two weekends a month and school holidays) but he remembered when they were little, and couldn’t help himself, so peered into the mayhem that was the lounge. 

He grinned at the sight of William on the floor now consoling one crying little brunette whilst trying to stand the large pot plant back up, and scraping up the dirt from the floor with the other hand. The slim man was also attempting to placate the *other* two little red heads obviously on the brink of tears (for no better reason that their sister was upset and they had been reprimanded!) with promises of ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ or… Lala and Poe!”

The big man, still in work clothes complete with dust, dropped to his knees and picked up a strange looking stuffed tortoise near the door. 

“Goodness whose is this?” 

Lucy and Saidie instantly forgot their upset, shifted their focus, and even Maisie pepped up a little, and soon it was Rick giving his customary big Montana smile as he bounced yet another little one on his knee to gleeful squeals and a happy hug to follow… before the next person had a turn.

With the very willing big man’s assistance, Spike used the distraction to roughly clean the floor with a brush and shovel and seek out the plate of cut up banana Nanny Susan had been preparing before other things happened. Sipper cups and/or banana were provided as the girls calmed, and Rick was quite moved by the easy domestic scene, and his inclusion in the same. It was all familiar enough… until Willow’s chair hummed past him. 

Nurse Susan ‘had her back’ but there was no denying Rick’s shocked look as he realised the burden one of his best workers was bearing, despite the help. The woman was greeted with glee by the girls. 

“*Mummy*” was extremely pregnant and obviously entirely reliant on both the Nurse and the brother as she was lifted gently into the purpose built recliner and sighed with relief as she was let down into said object. Rick noted that obviously Xander had adjusted the design to make it low enough that her children might climb up.

Introduced, Willow replied politely in her characteristically slow monotone, “Nice… to meet… you… Xan…der… speaks… highly of… you.” And in that moment Rick’s heart went out to the man he had employed six months previous.

He gave the girls a little more attention before disengaging, nodding apologetically to Willow saying, “I’ll just say hi to your husband but I really will have to go.” Willow smiled a little but he noted her fatigue just before being politely ushered down the hall to the main bedroom by an obviously physically struggling, William.

Xander was propped up by pillows half snoozing when the six foot ex-line backer entered. Both Xander and Rick looked genuinely embarrassed as a box of chocolates was shoved into the recovering man’s hand with a “Guys at work… you know the drill.” 

“I um…” He looked over to William then back to Rick, finishing with a genuine, “Thanks.”

Still unaware of Spike or Willow’s actions while he was in hospital, Xander nodded to his kind boss, then tackled something he had hoped to avoid, “I… um… I don’t know if I can come back… Willow is… I mean I thought she would… by now… Sorry Rick I’ll just shut up now.”

For Rick the upsetting part of the picture was that Xander still had a catheter in his left arm feeding him from a supported bag, and an oxygen tank and mask on standby. He hadn’t realised things were this bad.

Rick sat on the bed (looking to his employee for permission first) and took a moment trying to collect his thoughts. The man in front of him had literally almost worked himself into the grave because he was trying to support those he loved. Rick knew that feeling.

“Willow is as pretty as a picture, buddy, and good luck with the new one.”

Xander corrected him, “Ones… boys… matching pair apparently.”

“Oh geez… um… well… um… I really had no idea… you know… about your family… girls are a treat… and… two boys this time… wow! You sure ain’t shootin’ blanks! Ahhh geez. Kinda struggling here to be honest. I really dunno how t’ help but to say we’ll welcome ya back anytime after yer… recovered. And even if not… still would appreciate ya droppin’ by on a Friday and share a beer? Boys seem t’ think quite highly… and [clears throat] well we all do”

He was relieved to find a beer shoved into his hand by the English half brother and Xander began to ask about work. They talked for another half hour about certain employees, incidents on site and previous ‘weird and wonderfuls’ on the job (old stories but true… well… somewhat embellished). 

Rick eventually had to go, but was in good humour and assured Xander that even if he could come to instruct a few of the ‘real young guys, post recovery, he would be very welcome.

The little girls were being read a story by the uncle as Rick left. The wife was asleep in her chair and the Nanny let him out, thanked him for coming and gave an extra squeeze to his hand as he departed along with, “Thanks so much for coming… It means a lot.” Not usually a religious man, as he walked to his truck, he sent a ‘bit of a prayer’ into the ether, blessing one of the best carpenters he had ever employed, and a man who was obviously (as his Aussi cousin used to put it) “in the wars, poor bastard”, and belatedly thanking the same whatever deity for his own lot in life.

 

Xander rallied and though still weak, delighted in his girls visiting ‘Daddy’s big room’ and began to gain his appetite a little. 

His delight was his Will, the Spike of old that was utterly devoted to the one he loved. To a fault Xander was caressed, coddled and encouraged in much the same way (as Spike was quick to point out!) that he himself had done for Spike and Willow for so many months. 

On the Sunday before his return to work Spike leaned his stick against the side table of the bed, and pushed himself up and over his nearly recovered lover, straddling him. 

“Well come on ya slack bastard up with it!” followed by a very swift caressing of the thing that needed to rise with a well lubricated hand and associated passionate kiss, and just as Xander thought he was about to explode, felt a tight grip around the base of his engorged member and opened his eyes in amazement as Spike changed pace, slowly, gently, angling his lover’s impossibly hard part to an already slicked passage then eased himself down.

It seemed years since Xander could remember feeling so aroused and was sure he would explode in a matter of moments but Spike’s movements were so very careful and impossibly slow that the ride took him to the edge of bliss and then… just never quite… until… Oh Ghh@#$! 

Spike took his balls in hand then slid a slicked finger into his rear entrance. With prostate found and caressed it didn’t matter what the speed of his ‘rider’, he filled his lover with warm seed and in his sated afterglow enjoyed a lazy kiss and the sensation of slipping out of his wonderful vampire, who quickly pulled under a towel to catch the juices left of their lovemaking.

“Ya still with me Luv?”

Xander gave a slight grunt and Spike rolled onto his side and propped up on his elbow

“Need t’ let ya know… regards finance and all that rot.”

That got Xander’s attention and previously closed eyes now opened.

“Well just that you don’t need to worry is all.” Spike suddenly decided that Willow should be present for the ‘big picture’ explanation rather than doing it now.

Xander’s broad hand reached over to stroke his lover, “You hock more of you stuff for me? You really didn’t have to… I mean the hospital… as soon as I’m back on my feet… really Spike… but… um… thanks. Don’t tell Willow though… OK? I know she worries about paying the carers and all that.”

A week later Xander was up and playing with the girls, back at work (at the college) and still worried regards Willow’s physical condition and their economic circumstances (in the latter case utterly oblivious as to the momentous change that had been engineered by the two he had so cared for all these months/years).

Willow’s system was indeed in distress in her thirty seventh week, the constant pressure on her bowel and bladder only relieved when Nurse Susan and Spike or Xander lifted her into a warm bath or lay her on her left side (and no one was sure why that was the case). Rather than risk heart failure or compromising the boys’ health, it was recommended by her obstetrician that he take the boys by caesarean as soon as possible.

On his last home visit (they had given up trying to get to the surgery) she had caught most of the conversation between a very worried Xander and the kind Dr Labiris, but still cried as they loaded her into the ambulance then transferred her to a white room that looked too much like the ‘study room’ she had been trapped in during her other times… But Xander was there, and so was Spike this time. 

They both petted her gently as the epidural was applied and reassured her as the small ‘curtain’ was erected so that she might not need to witness proceedings.

She felt nothing as the two perfectly formed little baby boys were taken from her, then her body was checked, repaired and stitched post delivery. Xander and Spike both kissed and reassured her, but what she focused on was the wide eyed look on the father of her children and his partner as they carefully cradled and inspected the tiny forms for the first time. She didn’t miss the tear that Spike swiped away from Xander’s cheek, nor the reciprocal kiss. 

An hour later the two little boys were named in the presence of their three older sisters, Daniel Clement and Sebastian James. The girls were thrilled, pointed and proudly announced to anyone who passed by their mother’s room “our bruvvers”

Clem and Noreen arrived home only days after the boys were born and it was a *very* emotional Clem who delivered a beautifully wrapped (courtesy of Noreen’s talents) box of ‘boy things’ - clothes, a stuffed toy train, and two beautiful teddy bears, one blonde and one brown. But when he accepted the tiny human, who now bore his name into his floppy arms and kissed the sleeping little one on the forehead, red eyes dripped and he just…

He looked from Spike to Willow to Xander… “He has my name… I still can’t believe you named him after me!”

Willow simply nodded, banged her chair arm a little and Xander knew the feeling, so held her hand tight in silence and let Spike do the talking… “Bloody right mate! And he’s your problem if’n ‘e goes off the rails later on. You bein’ his namesake an’ all!”

Noreen was holding ‘Sebie’ and was feeling quite maternal but still directed a smile toward her beloved Clem as he stumbled over his words a little, “Yes well.,. um… I… he will… Oh dear… You really did give him my name?” Several emotional seconds passed, Clem eventually saved by natural events as a squeak from Daniel Clement and a rather bad smell had Clem handing over the rather stinky small human as he processed the idea that he was a namesake, and surrogate uncle. 

He didn’t take the role lightly. He now felt the tiny human was his to advise and guide as any blood relative might. In addition, he realised his dear girlfriend’s wish to have their own brood… and now genuinely understood the urge. He would enjoy it if he were to be a father.

They both handed back their precious bundles and no-one in the room failed to see the subtle embrace, nor the consequent floppy skin folds apparently melding for a moment and glowing a warm pink.

Clem squeezed Spike’s hand knowingly as he led his now blushing Noreen down to his apartment, the vampire whispering… “Just make sure when y’ have yer own, ta teach ‘em proper football so’s they c’n play with our lot.” 

That night he proposed and three weeks later, on the day after Willow’s impregnation with a *single* viable Xander/Willow embryo frozen from their previous ‘treatment’, Clem and Noreen ‘tied the knot’ in a ceremony that saw his mother prepare their son’s new life partner’s wonderfully floppy expanse for the partnering in the time honoured fashion.

Clem’s mother, her sister Lorelle, and Noreen’s own mother Doris all participated in spreading the light oily liquid from their own specialised glands near their elbows up and over Noreen’s skin folds.

The ceremony was quick… the scent of the ‘marriage covering’ apparently all too much for Clem who barely finished his vows before letting go. Tentacles erupted from his face and met with Noreen’s own and as he swept her up in his arms and carried her downstairs, no one failed to see their folds beginning to shift and mould into each other… 

Clem’s Mum cried, the Aunt dabbed her tear away, and Noreen’s Mum and Dad stayed for a very good cup of tea (courtesy of Spike!) as the unmistakable growls and high pitched wails of the newly married couple’s lovemaking drifted upstairs. It seemed that there might very well be a soccer team in the offing, albeit a floppy one.

As Spike used the kitchen table rather than his cane for support as he cleaned up following the festivities, he spied the unopened letters one from Banca Raiffeisen and the other from his Luxemburg broker. 

With Xander threatening to return to his second job, he resolved to talk to his partner. There just hadn’t been a ‘right time’. 

…………..

Xander was back at work, Spike noting the happy step as he headed for the car. Xander was happy to teach his trade and his students genuinely admired him.

 

Willow was reclining in the ‘sitting room’ – it was really a study, and was soon to be another bedroom, but for now gave her space to herself. The girls were having their afternoon sleep, and the tiny boys had just fed, so were likewise in slumber. Spike could not help but notice her slowly rubbing the rather loose folds of her stomach with a rather forlorn look on her face.

“Need company Pet?”

She looked up and gave him a genuine Willow smile, patting the bed as she did so.

The elegant cane that still accompanied Spike everywhere, but was slowly becoming accessory rather than necessity, was leaned against Willow’s bed as the vampire sat and took her hand.

They sat in comfortable silence for some time, Spike lifting her hand and kissing it, she reciprocating the move then moving the entwined hands to her stomach and allowing a tear to fall.

“C’mon Luv… What you don’t want it? Thought you?...”

Willow shook her head wildly before managing a slow “Want! *Hope…less* Not… getting… *brain* … still… not… right!” 

Spike pulled her up into a tight hug and just held on for a moment – as much for him as for her.

“Ya silly bugger, ye’re a Mum now… lots of times over… what Mum in the world has ‘er brain right when yer thinkin’ for five… plus the men ‘o the house! Age old dilemma the world over. Now come here… blow”

He pushed a facial tissue to her nose and waited as Willow did as any small child might in the same circumstances, she blew, he wiped then followed the action by gently wiping away her tears with another tissue as she calmed and accepted his open wrist.

Licking himself until the wound began to heal, he gently eased her up, “Now Pet, I need you to focus.” He waited and saw the serious concentration.

“I want you an’ me to explain to Xan what we’ve done… financially.”

Willow looked puzzled. She had been sure Spike would have already done this, so held out her hands in a universal gesture of ‘what? Or why?’

“Figured you needed to be there Luv. You, me, you know *adults*, fellow investors, lookin’ after our own, aren’t we! And quite frankly was a little worried that the boy would take it badly… needed the moral support as it were… Reckon you c’n watch me back?”

Willow’s worried look changed to one of adoration. 

Spike and she *had* been complicit in fixing up family finances. But now she was being offered the opportunity jointly explain what they had done, proudly and as an adult in control of her life again (at least financially). She nodded profusely then reached over, gave Spike a rather messy kiss and said, “Than..k You…”

Spike grinned, seemed to change gears, collected his cane and made ready to depart then at the door turned, winked and asked, “So, 8pm meetin’ tomorrow good for you?” He paused for a moment, Willow smiled, “Good then eight it is.”

As the vampire departed, Willow gently rubbed her belly again. She didn’t feel pregnant just yet but this one regardless of gender would definitely carry a certain vampire’s name.

 

Part 8

Willow had studied all day, in preparation for *the meeting*. She was never so aware of her own limitation as when trying to get her head around the investment portfolio and read up on the European markets. She had been an A+ student all through High School and college (well except for the missing some months because of going magic crazy), but now found it hard. The numbers and letters seemed to swim in front of her and she had to lean close to the page and run her finger across each line to keep on track.

As Spike entered her quiet room he recognized the sight – or rather the lack of – and handed her a pair of slim, frameless glasses Nurse Susan had smuggled in for him upon request. Despite his night vision and eagle like abilities when in game face, these days his sight, when in human guise was no good for reading, and having to stay in full vampire mode – with its associated hardcore ‘feed fight and f#%’ feelings really didn’t work when one was simply trying to read the newspaper or a decent novel! The glasses were cheap – simple reading glasses from a chemist – but did the task admirably and Xander had made no comment when he ‘caught’ his lover with them on once or twice. 

The sight of a bespectacled Spike sitting up in bed, leaning against some pillows happily ensconced in a novel, with a blond rather long un-gelled fringe falling over his forehead… well what was there to say. The first time Xander simply tip toed away, the second time resulted in him clearing his throat from the door, the glasses being whipped off and an hour or so of passionate lovemaking ensuing.

Willow was entirely relieved to find she was at least able to make out the symbols on the page – even if sometimes she seemed to lose the meaning until Spike explained.

Spike sat with her for almost an hour that afternoon carefully pointing out what had been done with their money… proudly showing her the current figures and making sure she knew how her Grandmother’s legacy had been allocated. They weren’t playing with the ‘big guns’ at only seventeen million, but the investment plan was sound and Willow grinned then looked puzzled as Spike pulled open a small box she had assumed to be a pencil case, lifted the lid and Willow’s eyes went wide as she peered inside on invitation, then slapped him hard.

“Oi! Steady on! What you think I never have a plan B…” snapping the lid shut on a not insignificant number of baubles and trinkets from his Gem of Amara days, “ ‘S for the family future… Like Angelus always said, gotta watch the perimeter. Things go pear shaped we’ll still be alright, and if not, the girls ‘ll have a mighty fine selection of jewellery for their dowry.”

Willow snorted and used what power she had left to slap him lightly again. William the Bloody could be such a Victorian at times… Dowry! Next he’d have them all stitching for their glory boxes and wearing white princess line dresses! Second thoughts, Willow didn’t mind the last bit, imagining her pretty girls as early teens with sausage curls, baskets of flowers and silk bows tying up their dresses at the front, wandering around some idyllic English countryside. She had always been a Jane Austin fan.

She belatedly realized that Spike had done it again, had her all dreamy and happy and… “How… do… you do that?”

“Do what Luv?”

“Get me… drea…ming nice things.”

“Just me merry way I figure!” He winked, kissed her hand with overdone flourish and a cheeky grin, before standing up grabbing his cane, only to spin it and throw it over his shoulder, much as the ‘Artful Dodger’ might before bowing theatrically. 

“So, Madam Rosenberg, you ready for this meetin’, or we gonna need ta get your ducks more in a row, stack the board o’ directors any more, or ya want me t’ bonk the Managing Director t’ get him all happy ‘n listen to ya?!!”

Spike was as animated as she had ever seen him! She knew he had consulted her – but the portfolio was his and already making money… She never knew… The Aurelian fortune, that which Spike and Drew had lived on for so long, wasn’t just to do with stolen money, it was *his* skills pre turning. Bad poet perhaps, but good accountant and wise investor with a century and a half of experience, and she and her children, the family, were now the beneficiaries of the vampire others had accused of not being able to carry out a plan. How wrong they all were.

Shortly after Xander arrived home from work, and a few hours after the William (the Bloody) and Willow Rosenberg had their own meeting, (and her settling the children) the two presented their wonderful saviour – now recovered – with the family investment portfolio. 

Part of Willow’s loss seemed to be her reduced ability to understand text, but she still remembered how to use a computer and was jolly good with images so now and worked her way through a series of pre prepared screen grabs (made with Nurse Susan’s help) and annotated spreadsheets (from Spike’s demon broker) manipulating PowerPoint slides with a specially designed large pen on an electronic tablet, whilst Spike (ever the Victorian Gent) deferred to her “greater dexterity on that bloody machine” and did all the talking.

Xander was stunned by the impromptu ‘show’ and understood the implications, they had another source of income that equated to five times what he could earn – and the investments were all still growing?! But the inner Xander still worried as the details were spelt out, “Yeah but… um…. What if, you know… What if… I don’t think I can…”

Spike growled just a little, “You *towk*. This is fer the woman of the house and yours truly ta manage. You go on teachin’ folks ta turn wood an’ we’ll sort the rest… Mouths ta feed an’ all that – plus gotta keep the lady here an’ I in the way she’s become accustomed!”

The look of pride on Willow’s face and the sly grin flashed her way from *William* silenced any further protests. So when Xander simply accepted his two little boys for a ‘Daddy cuddle’, he nodded to Spike then thanked Willow with such genuine gratitude and love, she feared she might melt. She really was part of this… and adult, in control, not of everything, but now the bits she could do. 

She felt for her belly, and pressed lightly. It was still soft, but she knew… This was her choice, and now *she* was one of the people taking care of their future, contributing to the household, and Xander was there, and Spike was there… but her tears of happiness as she embraced the moment were sadly misinterpreted. 

A worried Xander began to comfort her and called for Nurse/nanny Susan who swiftly took the boys handed them to Spike then returned to manoeuvre her chair into Willow’s sitting room where she and Xander eased the apparently upset woman into her recliner. When this seemed to create more upset, Nurse Susan moved to find Willow’s medication, at least to sedate her until the ‘storm passed’, but Xander staid her with a quiet hand. “Can we just wait for a minute…?” then knelt at Willow’s side, “Can you tell me…?”

He then waited for several minutes as she calmed. Finally Willow nodded hard, shed a few more tears and squeezed his hand before finally saying, “Jus… Happy.”

Spike had heard the hubbub and was now leaning against the doorframe of her room, having divested himself of small boys, and gave her a slightly amused smile and said, “Bloody strange way t’ show it ya daft bint. C’mon gotta smile if ya remember the look on the man o’ the house here’s when we showed ‘im just how much… Ahhh never mind, you were there… You get some rest yeah? Reckon ‘is lordship here is gonna want ‘t grill ‘is new investment dealers a bit more in the mornin’. Tell ‘im ta put on the telly for ya… but make sure you get the remote!”

Xander shot him a rather bemused look and when Willow nodded gratefully, it was Xander who hit the standby button for the TV remote and the Discovery Channel burst to life on screen opposite. Spike winked at her then excused himself, “Right I’m off, bit peckish after all this excitement.” 

Xander dutifully handed Willow the controls then sat on the arm rest of her recliner, taking her hand and simply being. They sat for a time watching an archaeology dig somewhere in Britain. It was comfortable, old friends watching television together. 

There was no sound from the rest of the house as he kissed Willow and nodded to Nurse Susan who had arrived to help Willow to bed.

After his warmed blood, Spike chose to sit outside in the dark and chill of the evening and smoke. He just needed to regroup for a while. He stayed in game face, it felt right for the moment. He growled at a stray cat who wandered close, and was mildly pleased to see it flee then found himself desperately wishing he was well enough to hunt again – if only for feral demons in the area. He knew he *was* on the improve but it was still taking too long. 

As he returned to their shared bedroom, cane now leaned on heavily, Spike didn’t fail to notice the man he loved sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and hands over his face.

When he was tired, Spike’s walking was always still a little too painful, something in his back was simply not mending… but he made it to the bed, eased himself down and sat quietly, placing down the cane by his ‘other’ side and slowly covering Xander’s hand closest with his own, then pulling it gently to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to upset you love… Only tryin’ to help.” He let their joined hands fall to his lap and waited.

“Spike… you have no idea… G#@% I have been so… tired… And I tried, I really did… It’s your fortune*s* that you are playing with now… and you are so good at it… I… I just… you didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, we did Pet… Come on now! Only doin’ our bit… Never really told ol’ Angelus what I went on with all the money we nicked (though later on he knew)… and the witch is a right gun at that silly piece ‘o junk they call a computer in there. ‘Specially since the nurse an’ I sorted her that writing board thingy on Ebay – just has to push the pen to the right spot on the big pad an’ bingo. She was right chuffed!”

Xander still had his eyes closed and the tears were obvious, but he managed a rough sniff then a simple, “I’m sorry… I should have… Willow and the kids…?! Oh geez… I’ve let you all down *so* much…”

“You say that once more mate and I swear I will bite you, an’ it *won’t* be friendly!” 

“But all this and Willow with her… and you’re still not…”

Spike stood up and stated “Willow *needs* this, self esteem, purpose an’ all that rot, an’ I’m *perfectly* fine mate!” He swung the cane in an attempt to prove his perfect health, then genuinely needed to plant it on the ground as, for some reason, his left knee weakened.

Xander snorted a little, noted his vampire’s embarrassment at the mild slip, and smiled weakly then pulled the dear lover down to sit by him again saying “Do you know how much I love you?”

Spike kissed the back of the hand he had been grabbed by and pushing it to his forehead in a gesture of fealty and thanks saying quietly “Yeah Mate… figure I do…”

They sat for a while before Spike squeezed the hand and turned to Xander rather uncharacteristically shyly, “I… I know this ‘as been a bit of a night for ya… but… was just wonderin’… vampire thing really – but been weighin’ on m’ mind fer a while… Just… well now I’m on the improve…” 

Xander’s face paled, he had no idea what Spike planned, but after everything tonight, thought it might just entail some sort of time away from each other, some vampire quest to make himself completely whole again. Xander just didn’t think he survive that… this, his life, without Spike any more. Spike was his… well… everything.

Spike heard the heart speeding in his lover’s chest and worried, but continued, “How would it sit with you if we were to… you know… Mated an’ such… not a big deal if ya don’t o’ course… Well it is really, for me, that is… well and you obviously… But it wouldn’t be painful… just blood exchange an’ a bit of a chant by the witch… Willow can say the words… even if she’s slow… ‘No’ is an OK answer… you know or… Just maybe think on it yeah?” 

The pause was rather uncomfortable but the outcome was a passionate kiss to the lips, before a nod and whispered, “Love you too… Mated… sounds nice… so… When?”

 

…………..

This time around Willow had hardly felt her pregnancy. With only one little person in vitro and a wonderful physical therapist, her walking had improved to the point of twenty eight steps with the walker, even though she was twenty weeks pregnant. It was the furthest she had gone independently for five years and took her from the bedroom to almost any room in the house. And with the special toilet seat and seat in the shower she was able to manage… almost by herself these days, though she knew that later on it would change, but only until baby came.

More worrying was her ongoing struggle with speech and some of her fine motor skills despite attending therapy sessions (usually involving clay or paint or something *not* what she seemed to need!) at the local community centre so *begged* Nurse Susan and Xander and Spike, to let it be. Her peers at the centre were sufferers of far more debilitating and increasingly compromising disorders, and it was Willow’s speech, dexterity and ambulation that was damaged *not* her… She was *still Willow*! There were bits missing but… She *wished* she could explain!

Despite Xander’s recent recovery he immediately banned the idea of her returning to the community centre after she slowly related her reasons for distress, and he hugged his dear friend and now mother of his *sixth* child, as she cried. Spike joined the hug later… Something that Willow belatedly realized was more to do with the father needing comfort than her and smiled at Spike. He was the quintessential hugger.

Words were not everything. Xander and Spike had both watched her with their girls and now with the new twins, she was patient, loving, giving… just the original… Willow. 

Xander also knew and cried into his partner’s arms, as they read the assessment of her most recent CAT scans and MRI’s – along with the psychiatrist’s report. It predicted she might recover to a certain extent, but there was very definite damage. Whatever the demon blood/electroshock treatment had done – along with the extended cocktail of drugs and general trauma, parts of her brain were now dark, the situation in which she had been physically kept also contributing. Her speech was likely never to be restored to its original level, nor would a number of her physical functions or memories return. The good news was her short term memory was still spot on and her general state of mind was good. The sad news was that W&H had managed to destroy so much. 

The night of the report coming in, it was Clem who comforted Spike and Xander downstairs over a beer. 

A day later, a little better news came through as a demon analyst read her magic and measured her power. Despite the horrendous draining of her energy for so long, the respite and boost from Spike saw her back to at least half her previous strength and the improvement seemed to be ongoing as far as he could tell.

It was the news they all needed. Willow a little reassured that she might still have something to work with, and hugged by all the household adults in congratulations.

The little girls would not start their magical lessons in full until at school, but a kindly aging wiccan recommended by the magical specialist, lived locally, and agreed to tutor Willow at home. So for the next two months as Willow enjoyed the beginnings of movements of a tiny body moving within, she made the first steps toward her magical recovery.

On the same day Xander was given permanency and a promotion to Design and Technology Coordinator, in the presence of Nurse Susan, Spike and Ms Duff the tutor, Willow managed to spin a small carrot slowly mid-air using her own magic, then shocked herself and her observers as a blast of magic slammed her tutor into Spike, and caused the carrot to turn to stone as it rose to the ceiling then explode it into a million pieces, showering the room in dust. 

Less than a second later, she collapsed unconscious…

Xander was called at work, Spike desperately tried to have his friend drink from him, Nurse Susan rang the local physician then attempted to placate three small girls who were wailing having been woken from afternoon sleep with a nasty jolt to their own magical energy. Thankfully the baby boys slept on unaware of the fuss. 

The family was now, again, in distress. And as all the adults rallied, the worry was for her five month old foetus. Such a blast of energy would either mean a miscarriage, or something unknown. Spike quietly hoped. He had fed her less than an hour before (on recommendation) and heard the second tiny heartbeat accelerate as his own demon essence combined with magic, and also felt it, the little one had a certain ‘prickle’.

 

Part 9

Willow was comatose for eleven days. Spike fed her daily, easing the rich vampire blood down her throat by stroking her neck in a time old tradition, and both he and Xander held her, massaged her and talked to her, but as the days went by hope waned.

Spike, now cane free (except when tired) and at what he described as fifty percent vampire strength and speed, nightly held his wonderful lover as a once again an exhausted distressed Xander confessed his worries before giving in to kind touches and gentle caresses. There had been tears before but after the eleventh day it seemed worse than ever.

“C’mon Luv… Not your fault the little’un got all excited with the… ahhh Pet! Just hold on t’ me… yeah? Just hold on… We’ll get through this… Girls need ya… an’ you’ve got those lovely lads needin’ you firm hand… And Willow… she’s not gone… she’s just needin’ a bit of shut eye while the little un grows.”

Xander was crying uncontrollably now but he did manage to sob, “Oh G#$% Spike! What if she dies? What if she dies? And the baby dies too?? Was me! I let her do the… magic again….”

Spike kissed his wonderful rescuer, his lover, on the temple and stroked his hair. They had to go back into the sick room soon, he knew that, and his lover would need to be strong. 

“C’mon now… Willow would ‘ave wanted the littlie t’ be full of magic if she’s that way inclined… and both heart rates are doin’ fine. Trust me Pet I can hear ‘em.” It was true, he could hear the two hearts beating, the baby’s faint and very fast but Willow’s unnaturally slow.

Xander looked up from his lover’s lap at the last statement, “Really?”

“What ya think I’d leave the bint if she was wanin’? Mother of *our* kids? You daft?” Spike’s rather insincere incensed look took the cake and Xander smiled weakly and accepted the fond caress from someone he knew was still struggling with his own recovery, but was so strong… so *very* strong. He gulped hard and drew on that strength as he heard one of the girls cry for her mother after their afternoon sleep, it was just about too much.

Spike heard the heart rate increase, smelt the distress and saw the tears. He tore off his T-shirt, scored his chest and pulled his dearest up and into his lap. He bore no argument as he pushed the brunette’s mouth to his bleeding wound. The father needed to be strong. It was always as he understood it… and if not the father, then the son… and as son then Childe he had tried *so* hard and failed… and as his blood was pulled from him, he also felt the truth. He had failed, his mother, Dru, and Angel… but he would not fail now.

Strangely it would be the Battle Brand who directly felt Spike’s angst and prayer on behalf of Xander, children and Willow. Giles also began an investigation of the possible effects on the foetus after Willow’s ‘episode’, and reinvigorated his study of Illyria and the energy she might have taken or given in her last blast from the world. His sources were vast, his time limitless these days… It did seem that it was not only Willow’s in vitro child that was special. He also wondered about Spike - the slow recovery, the survival in the first place, the connection to Illyria and possibly even the Well.

Two days later there was quiet in the house, Xander was at work and the children were having their afternoon nap. It was the thirteenth day after the traumatic magical event and Spike was sitting with Willow as she slowly came to. He heard the heart rate accelerate first, then saw her eyelids flicker open.

“There you are Luv… thought we’d lost you there for a moment…”

He stroked her face gently and she remembered who he was, where she was, and just why she counted this vampire as one of her dearest friends. 

She wanted to say something, but unlike before, there didn’t seem to be any words available at all. Perhaps something had happened… inside. She worried some but then Spike opened his wrist and she reflexively accepted the blood straight from the source, then relaxed back. 

“You up to me calling for the kiddies?” 

Willow nodded, smiled and squeezed Spike’s hand.

“Right then. Hold on Pet… just go get nursery and we’ll be in business.”

Three rather frightened little girls were accompanied by Nurse Susan carrying two little boys. All the children were desperate for their mother’s direct contact, but the girls having seen her so ill, worried what they might find. They were all extremely quiet as they entered her room.

Reassured by their mother’s recovery but still almost in a state of shock, the boys suckled, then, although nearly three, the girls were accepted one by one and did the same. Willow should have felt like a jersey cow mid season, but instead felt incredibly grounded. Nurse Susan stayed as five little bodies surrounded their mother to cuddle and snooze post feeding, every little person embraced by at least two others and all touching their recovering mother. 

Willow felt a very strange difference as she gave up her milk, and wondered if it was just that she had slept for so long. Each time she fed someone, it was like there was a fire inside her, like the connection was stronger, like someone else was also connecting, and after some consideration, she knew. Her foetus magically gifted, was seeking family through her, and Willow’s own need also flared as each connection was consciously restored. 

The children were all touching her and the foetus inside her squirmed with delight and seemed to send her messages of bliss… though Willow it was only later that she realised it was not her imagination, and for Willow there was an overwhelming need for family, for Xander and Spike too. She felt compelled to seek them out in a way that she no longer understood, but her speech had been even more compromised by the blast and it let her down again, as the children were removed (afternoon activities and baths necessary) she began to cry.

Nurse Susan saw the distress as she departed and was relieved to see Spike take the woman’s hand and simply be as they waited for Xander to come home – he had been called and had excused himself immediately but was currently stuck in traffic.

Two weeks later saw Willow permanently in her chair, the recliner or her bed. Whatever else the magical blast had done, it had compromised her further than anyone could measure. There was no more speech, just gestures and the girls knew to be ‘patient with Mummy’ and were encouraged to involve her in everything.

It was hardest on Xander though Spike sat with her during the afternoon, even though technically he should still have been sleeping.

Xander always came to sit with her after work, relating the events of the day, asking her about the children, waiting as she pointed to things on the purpose designed images on the screen with enormous effort using her special pen but he could not help note that she was losing condition, eating too little and crying too much. She fed the boys and still played with the girls but now seemed so exhausted some days that even lifting a spoon to her own lips was just too much, and even if she was fed, she would only take the tiniest amount. 

He used all Willow’s therapists, the coven and any contact he could think of to assist. It was decided that it was not so much a magical issue any more, the consultant mage who attended, confirmed that her child was draining her magic completely, and was pulling her physical energy also. Then Xander finally discovered the possibility of, post delivery, trying to ‘stimulate’ some of Willow’s less active brain areas and other parts with stem cell therapy from her own placenta after the daughter was born. The hope was not so much to have her recover lost memory or ‘jog around the block’(!), but rather, that the brain might adapt and allow her to learn ‘new’ skills that seemed to have been lost, perhaps restore her speech a little.

There was a forty percent chance of success, but as Spike caught his lover’s hand and they both watched sadly as Willow was spoon fed her evening meal, then only barely managed to kiss all the children as they mounted her bed and bade her goodnight… forty percent was enough.

Willow nodded her agreement they night they discussed it with her, but were unsure now if she really understood, particularly as she cried. Xander struggled with the emotional reaction and worried he had said something to upset.

Spike had her measure, “Pet, the lady just needs to tell you a few other bits I reckon.” He looked over to Willow and she smiled sadly then indicated to her writing tablet on the bench.

With the keyboard on the twenty inch screen, she slowly managed to spell out “Try but nt hur baby she specil”

It was enough and Xander took the now seven month pregnant Willow into his arms and hugged her, and said “Never! Not the baby, not you… c’mon Wills we’ve got you… We’ve got you”, all the while reassured by his partner’s calm hand literally at his back.

 

She improved over the next two weeks, in spirits at least, and the child grew and her boys were weaned and the little girls were a delight. But Spike worried. Something wasn’t right, but as the therapy seemed to have an effect, and Willow began to try stand by herself (with the walker) again, he kept his opinion to himself as Xander, Spike and Clem took on W&H.

Clem was their ace card. 

He and Noreen were looking to reproduce (all true!) and the story was he could but she was too busy (also true) so they were looking for a surrogate. He had a handsome deposit ready to secure their position and so was welcomed with open arms by the staff at the centre, though informed that there was a ten month waiting period – at least! Nevertheless he were led around the facility, the sanitary nature of the establishment and its fine history of neither demon nor human viruses or infections a tribute to the care of the ‘volunteer vessels’.

So now they were looking at the photos from Clem’s phone – taken with full permission.

Spike felt his fingers almost break with Willow’s grip, then the jolt from the small one that had all the magical signature of a full wiccan mistress. She would relate her knowledge later, but for now it was enough Spike just held on.

Willow knew the face but not the placid glassy eyes nor the digital picture of body that now reminded her of how far she had come, and how much she owed her dear Xander, and for that matter Spike and all her carers. 

The girl was the brunette who had replaced Kennedy in the tank opposite her when she was in the facility. She never knew her name but the girl had thrashed around for weeks even after she was fully restrained on a body board they tied her to then lowered her back into her tank. Willow remembered chewing a little on her own jaw divider and wishing she could help the distressed girl, wished she could tell her to just relax and drift, enjoy the breast pump, lose herself in memories of before, appreciate the movement of the children she was carrying, but it was not to be and she watched as the girl continued to struggle until exhausted.

After the woman’s first pregnancy Willow saw little change but as she hung in her sling being hosed down waiting for her one month check, she heard the ‘researchers’ discussing the Slayer. They rejoiced in finding a new drug that worked on Slayers and calmed their prize charge, and were thrilled that her part demon nature sped up the pregnancies as long as they got the ‘mix’ right. Willow then listened and watched in horror as the demon mother herself physically injected the eggs. The relaxant filled Slayer, simply lying of a trolley in front of her tank, was completely aware as the lizard like creature penetrated her with a strange white appendage and happily deposited her fertilized eggs inside the Slayer/incubator.

By the time Willow entered her second trimester with the three human children, she had seen her fellow surrogate produce nine ‘lizard’ babies from two pregnancies/incubations…. Four then five baby ‘something or others’ in the space of three months. And after the ex-slayer was impregnated again Willow saw the signs, there was no more struggle, the girl simply hung in her tank, now free of all restraints, there was no need. 

Merely days before Willow was ‘purchased’ she also noted the similar head fitting to her own had been attached to hold the girl’s head out of her fluid, she had been impregnated again, the bumps of the eggs in her belly again obvious. The girl looked sadly across at her but still had awareness in her eye at that time.

That had been three years ago. 

Despite her own limitations Willow noted, even from the still photo. The Slayer was utterly placid, physically unable to ‘thrash’ and completely catatonic after years of pregnancies, sedation and sensory deprivation, and the girl was huge and unnaturally pregnant. Clem had also caught the note on the clipboard hanging from her tank that they could just make out, “Milk yield down. Dragon egg incubation viable. Recommend no further incubation or pregnancies. Subject suitable only for harvest of organs *not* limbs. ”

According to Clem there were three other women in the same row with similar messages. It was obvious two had already lost ‘parts’, eyes the easiest to take first, then kidneys one by one apparently.

The young lab assistant who was showing their ‘prospective client’ the demon (Clem) around was a little too chatty, and let drop that the funding for the project was in trouble; that the establishment was due to be closed and as soon as the latest round of orders were filled; and that all the women would be moved to a new facility, either for continued milk and in some cases blood production, and for the rest, organ &/or limb donation (apparently quite lucrative).

Poor Clem had excused himself politely at that point and threw up in the basin of the men’s lavatory. He adored Willow and the whole family, and tried not to think about his dear Noreen in the same situation, but also realized to his distress that all the women in the establishment were deemed disposable. The majority were already catatonic and the kindest thing for Xander and the family team to do would be… end their suffering as painlessly as possible.

He headed home to his lovely floppy skinned wife with a ‘price list’ for the various services offered and thanked his lucky stars that he was able to be the messenger not the one to make the decisions as he delivered the photos.

 

The following week a package came for the director of the establishment from somewhere in England. It contained a polite letter from an unknown vendor they had apparently met at a conference, accompanied by a small wrapped gift. 

Seven covens and the Watcher’s council were ready, as was Willow and all her girls – young as they might be. Spike, Xander and Clem and Noreen even added their energy as they waited for the moment.

The director tugged at the pretty tie and the trigger was tripped. An enormous blast of magical energy blew through the facility knocking over all the researchers who quickly scrambled out of the building. But the blast has already killed the ‘propagating stock’ before the real device detonated. With staff already outside and diving to the ground it blasted the facility with such force that it blew out all the windows on an adjacent building. The director died with his charges, but like them knew nothing.

Sadly, in some cases there was a faint message of joy felt through the ether by those who had contributed their magic as freed desperate spirits joined sisters elsewhere.

All grieved for the two new eggs (demon babies) that were killed in the process, but if Clem’s happy informant was correct there was *only* two as the establishment now had abandoned human birth cycles and all ‘propagators’ were now on the same schedule and had just been harvested according to their chirpy corporate guide.

Watchers, Slayers and Wiccans all sent a prayer for the women and two demon children lost. Gaia and the Powers heard. There would be no repercussions from the Senior Partners. At least not soon but the Battle Brand knew when he felt the jolt through the ether and knew from his older memories, the Senior Partners had many interests.

 

Willow’s sixth child was not in the right position when her waters broke but all was well and now Xander then Spike kissed on the forehead as she held their beautiful sixth child – another girl, again a little early and by caesarean, but perfect. 

As had been planned the stem cells from the placenta were extracted and frozen. The treatment would take months but everyone was hopeful, and despite Willow’s depleted state there seemed every reason to be hopeful.

Baby Margaret Louise was born with a magical signature so strong it made Spike’s demon shiver every time he picked her up. On the other hand Willow’s magic seemed to have gone all together.

 

Part 10

Willow’s treatment was complex, and though not particularly painful, left her weakened for a few days each time the injections occurred. 

Spike, still not well himself, took it upon himself to boost her. He now took a few drafts of his dear Xander’s blood each early afternoon as his partner left for work (at Xander’s insistence), then fed her as soon as she was awake enough to take anything by mouth. 

Late evening they would both attend their friend. Spike sitting and feeding her a second time directly from his wrist while Xander held her hand. 

The feeding always cost Spike. And despite the boost from Xander, his lover could not miss the shaky grasping of the cane by the vampire post bleeding, or the occasional stall as Spike put a hand against the wall to steady himself after he attempted to walk back to their room having given up his wrist to their dear friend. Something about it was not… right. Spike did it so willingly, so often and yet at a cost that should not be that difficult were he a truly full force, Master Vampire.

Xander rang Giles again. And this time the Battle Brand had news.

“It is apparent that Illyria *took from* Spike as she departed this realm. He is still a vampire, of that there is no doubt, but his demon is *severely* weakened. Indeed it seems it was already, particularly after the incident with the First. 

“There is no precedent other than those noted in the diaries of the ancients. Were they to leave this realm, they would draw from their subjects. Apparently Illyria saw Spike as not just a subject – but more than that - a pet. So she also gifted him with part of her essence, something that I am still investigating. This combined with the way he obtained his soul seems to have saved him from complete destruction… and it is more than possible that he earned her admiration for his bravery on that night, who knows. It may be years or never before his full strength and abilities are restored. 

“As for Willow? The baby has all her magical power now. Willow is as any human invalid. Your current actions will help but not cure. That is all I know. The children will be happy and healthy for the foreseeable future. Each one is special. I will always admit them if they come to the Well – as with you and Spike.”

It was the most Giles had spoken in six months and for Xander was of little solace, but the phone had gone dead.

The telephone had been on speaker. Spike standing at the door and hearing every word regards his own condition, knowing the Battle Brand could only say the truth.

As Xander hung up the handset, he noted the resignation and sadness on his dear one’s face, “So… seems like I won’t be sprintin’ after F’yarlls any time soon… Bloody awful vampire I turned out to be… Now not even that… Got the ‘cut down’ version of the Big Bad, you have. Hundred an’ fifty years plus an’ still good for nothin’. Don’t know how you c’n stand it…”

Spike was miserable and went to turn, but was feeling dizzy and struggled to steady himself using both wall and walking stick to stay aloft. Xander was on his feet in an instant. He too was feeling drained but knew they both needed a break. 

He knocked the cane to the floor and collected the smaller man in his arms, refusing any arguments and carrying him to their shared bedroom and placed him lovingly on the bed.

He stripped Spike swiftly then gently massaged and arranged the body he adored. This was followed by almost an hour of kissing and touching in all the right places, ending in Xander finding his partner’s rear entrance with a naughty toy, then the human sinking a well lubed hole onto his lover’s stiff member and working them both toward completion.

At some point Spike had added his hand to the mix and they both came together, the vampire wearing Xander’s spunk but (as the vibrating plug in *Spike* stilled) refusing the offer to clean it off. Xander knew… He needed the smell, the wetness just now… needed the connection, the love. Spike was in Xander and Xander was on him. Nothing else mattered.

 

Margaret was the centre of attention for the triplets, her brothers were toddling eighteen month olds and more than happy to engage, but were a little rough with a five month old with just about to crawl little girl, so were often ‘held back’.

Daddy and Uncle William played with them daily and all the children knew Mummy needed help for a lot of things. The girls were all adept at lifting their sister up onto the bed or the chair or the recliner for a feed, and the boys still enjoyed crawling up and being cuddled when the youngest was not present.

Willow slowly regained some of her strength as the therapy both physical and medical took effect. But Nurse Susan still worried.

Drained of her magic, Willow was entirely reliant upon Spike’s enhanced (and though compromised, worthwhile) vampire blood and an experimental treatment for her recovery, but Nurse Susan was back in full time carer mode. She had two other nurses who took her role as she cared for the children and made sure all was as it should be. 

The walker was stored out of sight. The schedule of treatments and therapy sessions was put on the wall and the idea of Willow becoming pregnant again discounted for good.

Strangely the last dictate was the easiest for Willow to come to terms with. She had squeezed the nurse’s hand shortly after Xander had discussed it with her. Somehow, her dear daughter Margaret, who had taken everything magical from her (and she felt it) also marked the end of the ‘production line’ horror that had been W&H – perhaps that and the destruction of the facility which Willow had seen! It all led to her feeling that another pregnancy was unnecessary.

Also now, she was just tired. Spike fed her and she rallied most times; Nurse Susan read to her and helped her with her speaking board and she responded; but there was still something… not quite right. No pain exactly, just… not right.

The girls and their younger brothers all blew out Noreen and Clem’s candles as they celebrated their second anniversary. 

Noreen was obviously about to have their own brood to the great rejoicing of the general family (all the children willing to tell *anyone* that Aunty Noreen was *having kids*!), and the woman was all but glowing with her pregnancy! Willow had leaned over to her on that evening and had her hand taken and pressed to the demon mother’s burgeoning belly. 

That had been Margaret’s first birthday, on a Sunday, just on evening. 

Willow was in her chair with the guest of honour on her lap. She was still limited in speech but seemed to be improving some over the last months with the stem cell therapy. ‘Happy to you’s’ were sung at Margaret’s first birthday and everyone enjoyed her little girl’s special day.

There was nothing that could have prepared them. She had been *well*, and though maybe mostly silent and needing help, she was still Willow!… Mummy!... and so much more despite her current limitations. It was more than twelve months after the final destruction of the breeding facility, surrounded by friends and family, she was comfortable, feeding herself and directing her own chair, and drawing on her board again. And after Margaret and the draining of her magical energy, Willow had felt strangely at peace. 

Whether it was the destruction of the W&H facility, the apparent connection she felt with her tiny daughter due to her Maggie’s immense magic, or just generally, she was surrounded by family and loved. 

Despite treatments, her major motor skills were still extremely limited, though her use of her drawing pen had improved immensely as had her eyesight and hearing. Speech was still limited to “Hmm”, “Whhnnnooo” and “Greee” but it was enough. That combined with her use of the computer and it was… fine.

She was taken swimming with the girls – Noreen volunteering to ‘swim’ Willow as her girls had their lesson, the lovely floppy skinned demon forgoing the embarrassment of stares from human parents for the pleasure of allowing her own floppy folds to relax into the warm water and simply pull her friend’s semi-inert form backwards and forwards through the water. 

Xander or Nurse Susan or Nell were always there at the end of the experience to help with small girls, and/or Willow, and though the invalid wished in her heart it were different, she also knew… it was not to be.

The scare of her blood pressure was now gone and she was expressing her milk without the need of assistance. And Willow was... happy. 

She had smiled and been kissed by her dear friend Xander as he left for work the morning post celebrations. But a day after her daughter turned one, Willow was dead. 

She had fed Margaret and admired the boys’ finger paintings and her beautiful girls’ ceramics and creations from kindergarten after they were led in to show their mother by Nanny Susan late afternoon. Spike fed her an hour later but she had still been tired… so strangely, very, very tired, despite the therapy and her ability to stand by herself these days.

She had been attentive post feeding as Spike read to her, as he did always of late. It was “The Scarlet Pimpernel”, her lovely vampire insisted upon the book, ever the Victorian romantic, and they were up to the last chapter, the conclusion wonderfully read by a rather... emotional Spike. 

Finished, Spike had kissed her on the forehead, said “You’d better rest Pet, y’ look spent” then announced, “No arguments though, next time it’s ‘Ivanhoe’, OK with you?”

She had squeezed his hand and now mother of six, minutes after being left alone, though limited, a woman still leading a meaningful life and under good medical care, like Joyce Summers she quietly, and without announcement, suffered a fatal aneurism. 

The catastrophic event in her brain took someone very loved, a dear person, most needed. 

It was an untimely death of a loved lady who had… just for a short time… enjoyed her life and left the most wonderful legacy, but also left a family utterly bereft. 

Nurse/Nanny Susan tried to help advising for the music for the service but struggled even with that. Willow had been her charge but also her friend for close to six years now. They had been through times… tougher than most health wise, and joys beyond measure with the children. Now Susan *begged* not to have to speak when it was suggested. Spike realised that Xander’s children… *their*, his and Xander’s, children(!) would need Susan more than ever… to guide and hold the little ones at the service just as much as their fathers would need to respect her role and attend them for the months and years to come.

Xander’s grief was heightened by realizing that his wonderful Spike had been willing to give up everything, his blood, his vulnerability, his unlife, to a woman that was really Xander’s long time friend, despite the fact his partner had been truly struggling. 

Spike insisted he didn’t care, but had obviously been working with Nurse Susan and feeding Willow regardless of his own precarious health. And sadly they had both known, Spike had been unable to turn her, even if he had wanted to, it was no longer possible – at least not while his Demon was so compromised. Sadly were he to do so without his Master Vampire fully in play, Willow would be condemned to being a minion and have an eternity in her compromised state. It just wasn’t an option.

So now, on the night of her death, Spike had held Xander’s hand as he explained his inadequacy again then shed tears and begged forgiveness, and Xander was reminded of the truth and understanding his partner’s angst. Spike had had to come to terms with the fact that he may never recover to full strength, but his limitations were never more clearly put into perspective as they faced the outcome of the loss of their loved one. 

Private tears had often flowed from the soft hearted poet/vampire as he watched the mother slowly decline, now dead, and realised in that moment… if Xander was ever on the brink, despite his weakened state, Spike would contact the coven, find a way, perhaps via Giles and turn his lover. The children needed them both, there was no way he could do it alone!

And he’d been too late… Willow… He should have recovered or… but it was now too late. It was the first time he really felt his age and utter vulnerability. If Xander failed, it would be up to him to care for six small children.

That evening both men were in distress… More than distress… *Grief*!! 

Spike held Xander when he cried and Xander held Spike. Strength came only from knowing the other was there.

There were ‘arrangements’ to be done and thankfully Clem’s lovely Noreen was prepared to step up to the plate.

Courtesy of the family deep freeze, the two year old Margaret would continue to benefit from her mother’s milk for many months to come, but she, the boys and Willow’s darling three girls, were destined to struggle with their loss. 

Spike, still red eyed and struggling, consulted with Nanny Susan who herself was in distress, and managed to find a lovely young psychologist who specialised in childhood grieving.

Dr Francis was a gentle individual who arrived within hours and had the children draw pictures of their mother and make a scrapbooks filled with photos and memories. The doctor recommended they regularly walk together to put flowers on Willow’s simple grave and talk to their mother at the site, and have the older children remind their tiny sister who “would never know Mummy properly” that Mummy loved her by giving the little girl ‘lots of extra hugs’ and talking about Willow. It seemed … so sensible.

Most of the hand drawn pictures had their mother naively drawn in her wheelchair, but there was a series of pale coloured, pretty illustrations by Maisie that had her with a set of faerie wings firmly in place, flying above the earth and smiling. It was those that made the adults of the house cry privately. It was what they *all* hoped for a beautiful lady.

Xander and Spike knelt at the pretty white marble headstone and placed a bunch of twelve dark red roses at its base. It was Halloween and the children, even Margaret, were all in costume. The two men stayed after the children paid their respects, Noreen, Clem and Nurse Susan having taken it upon themselves to walk the children around (fully decked out in ‘Monster Mash’ gear) All the children were dressed as fae folk – even Margaret had tiny red fairy wings though she still needed to take to the push chair as little legs just didn't go fast enough for her brothers and sisters.

The three teary girls and two little boys lasted three houses of before a lovely aging neighbour invited them in, locked the door and pulled Nurse Susan into a well needed hug. She easily addressed the children and put them on the simple sofa to watch an old animated DVD on the family machine. 

And it really was Nurse Susan that needed the hug. She’d had hugs from Noreen and from Spike and Xander, but this was different, it was random, and came with milky sweet tea, and Meredith knew Willow’s closest friend and helper was truly struggling. 

Susan was so embarrassed but could not help the distress showing and melted into the warmth of Meredith’s arms, then began to sob as silently as she could. She was quiet for the children’s sake but could not help her tears and Meredith pulled her closer to her ample chest and simply held on as Noreen and Clem sat with the children, claiming the need to see Chim Chimeny just one more time. 

Meredith winked at the her lovely neighbours then pulled Susan in even tighter. She knew feeling of losing someone close, but had also seen Willow in decline and whispered to the dear nurse that perhaps her passing was a blessing. All Susan could manage was, “Yes but she tried so hard! And she was *so* loved.”

Meredith looked over to the triplets cuddling their little sister and the two little boys all six flanked by Noreen and Clem and happily watching an ancient video of ‘Mary Poppins’ and smiled ruefully.

“My darling, she will always be loved. And they are loved, as are you.”

It was not long later that she made a phone call. She knew the voice – a lovely baritone of the pretty ‘friend’ to her neighbour Alexander. 

It was after sundown though Xander was still to return home so Spike came soon after to collect the distressed Susan and the children. Clem and Noreen were rather relieved as they were able to give up their responsibility.

This time it was a tired Spike that eventually tucked Susan into the spare bed in the room adjacent to the children’s and explaining quietly to Xander where she was, before settling beside his partner. There really was no need to explain. Susan was single and now as much a part of the family as anyone. They all needed comfort. Hopefully Noreen would deliver Clem their own twins soon… it would be something positive.

But at three that morning, a magical jolt blew every fuse in the apartment block and rocked them all from their beds. 

Margaret was awake… and the tiny, immensely powerful magical being… was demanding mother's milk and comfort.

 

Part 11

The children were all up instantly – as were Xander and Spike but held their little ones back. Nothing could have prepared them for the strange feeling of urgency, the demand… the powerful blast of need.

Nurse Susan was there but it was only when Xander took the bottle accepted the tiny form into his arms that the magical energy truly calmed.

Spike was on the floor – as was the nurse. She had two small boys also taking a bottle in her lap while Spike petted the three girls who had all snuggled up against him. Xander looked rather apologetically at his wonderful partner as the still recovering (would it *ever* get better) vampire whipped off the old sweater of Xander’s he’d thrown on and laid it gently over the three girls who were now snuggled down and near asleep in a three way spoon together using his thigh as their pillow.

Shortly after the children settled it was Giles who rang Xander.

“What the… Xander what’s happened?!”

Spike pulled Xander onto the settee and held him close as the sad news was related.

“It was Margaret but… Oh Giles… I don’t know how to…” Xander’s voice hitched and he took a moment before continuing in a near whisper, “Willow… She… she’s dead Giles… I… we… I’m sorry I just couldn’t… they said it was in her sleep… painless… two weeks ago… the day after Margaret’s birthday… and she seemed so happy late… [hic] I’m … oh geez ahhh [hic] We ummm… I just…. It’s [hic] it’s too hard Giles… The kids have been *so* good… *so* good… even Margaret until tonight… but she is just saying what we all feel really… I ummm” Giles heard and extra heavy sigh and hiccup then the quiet, “Here Luv, give me the phone for a tick yeah?”

And a stronger baritone voice took over, “Giles?”

“Spike?”

“Taa for the call… right nice of the Battle Brand to ring… As you can tell… we’ve been strugglin’ here for a bit. Just we’d have sent a card but… well… we just… the boy here an’ the kids… we… she was so loved Giles… so loved right to the end…”

“I knew Spike, I knew the instant she left…” It was not normal for a Battle Brand to be emotional, but it seemed the rules had been allowed to change a little – at least in this instance and it was a very emotional Giles who added, “She was mine too… my dear redheaded girl, a magnificent witch! But I know she was at peace in the end, if it is any consolation that is fact and mine to convey. Once her magic was gone, her time was limited, but my dear boys, to be so loved, just as Fred was in the end, there is no better conclusion to one’s life…”

Spike was feeling tearful but held down the lump in his throat and simply said, “That they were – two right fine women… And kiddies will no doubt visit you – in time. But you’re beatin around the bush, no?”

Giles couldn’t speak and simply ground out “A moment…”

Spike was still dripping tears himself and in a near whisper said, “Take all the time you bloody like…”

Spike all but felt Giles’ distress as he looked over to his own partner Xander who was still sitting with his head in his hands tears falling onto his lap. 

Giles pulled Spike from his own malaise, and all but whispered into the phone, “Margaret is… extraordinary… she has a power like no other witch on the planet before or since… But… you too despite your… physical limitations in vampire terms… Willow gave her daughter something special, just Illyria gave something to you. *You* will need to train her, from a very young age… she will have other tutors, but it is *you* Spike… you will make her what she can become. She has a direct link to Gaia, the Earth. If she chooses she can shift weather patterns, cause earthquakes, or save a planet already in decline. You must train her. As to your current state and inability to heal - my research… it seems Illyria took and *gave* quite liberally to her favourites – quite the Machiavelli’s Prince – as was her history… and you as designated ‘Pet’ and fellow fighter…”

Spike snorted, “She could have bloody given me a pair of pins that worked on a bad day! Need ta use the dead one’s walker soon as not!... Bloodly Hell!!! Get ta the point! Brand or not I swear I’ll come over there an’ rip out yer insides with me own hands if’n ya know sommit that we need ta keep this family from goin’ t’ the pot!”

“Oh Please Spike, William… do me the service of speaking the Queen’s English – If nothing else, it’s an insult to your mother!”

Spike would normally have fallen into game face but only managed his fangs and that after some effort. The comment regards his mother cut to the core, that combined with the death of the mother of Xander’s, their children, he would never insult… “Low bloody call Battle Brand. Callin’ me me Mum into this? Family’s still grievin’… Me included… ” Spike went silent, not trusting his own voice to continue. 

Giles’ new role dictated a curt answer but managed to access enough old memories to make the conversation at least a little polite, “I will apologise for that but you presume to think I don’t grieve also? The passing of one of the most powerful witches on the planet, the girl I taught and guided through her high school years, the girl I held as she herself grieved for a friend! I too mourn her passing… and also have lost a mother.” 

There was a long pause. “Yeah… bugger… sorry, just… ” [audible sniff]

“Your… abilities…? You have been drained of some of your magic and more. If Illyria reappears there may be some chance of appeal… but until then you are at least ambulant. That is surely enough. The rest you will have revealed in time. Meanwhile be the father*s* you always wished to be… As did I…

“If you are willing, when Margaret is old enough, send her to me… Might I suggest eighteen. Give her a ‘gap year’ with me after her high school. She will know if she’s ready. But visit with her before then. Xander is her father and will love her as he should, but you need to train her and she *needs* you in ways that will be revealed – just as Xander needs you.”

Spike didn’t miss the sadness, and simply said, “So surrogate Grandpa? … You OK with that, since she an’ the boy were yours… kinda logical innit?”

Spike heard Giles’s voice hitch a little, “Given the circumstances… I… Goodness… Yes of course… of course but you must realise…”

“Yup got it, Battle Brand, taciturn… all that rot… kids just need a bit of a note on the 25th of December and a cuddle if’n they visit… Me boy Xan is a little the same…”

“Oh for heaven’s sake Spike… I know… Just *yes* and *yes* for all the reasons that… *of course*. Now do me the honour of *getting off the phone*. All this emotion is tedious at best!”

Spike handed the handpiece back to his partner who simply thanked Giles politely and wished him well, but after hanging up was in full damage mode.

There had been another small tug on the energy in the room as Margaret was carried to bed and it seemed to drain the last of Spike’s energy.

His beloved vampire was shaking in a way that was… not of the good… and even though seated already, he was leaning against the recliner for support, not game to move with three little girls still using his leg as a pillow. And Xander realized yet again just how fragile Spike really was. 

Eventually the other children were all carried back to bed by a now exhausted Nurse Susan and overtired Xander, who then returned for his partner. 

Lifting Spike was surprisingly easy, especially after one of the magical draining as had just occurred. The blonde vampire was already incredibly thin but now… Xander felt like he was carrying a young boy.

He eased Spike onto their bed and simply stroked him lovingly until they both slumbered.  
…………..

Noreen and Clem had two of their own a week later, both cute as a button and each one tiny. A girl and a boy with floppy skin and red eyes from day one, but adored by Xander’s brood – even the boys were intrigued and… gentle (for a change).

Margaret was banned from them – when she came near, they became over excited and Noreen simply did not have the milk supply to calm them again. The little budding wiccan didn’t understand and had a minor tantrum the first time she was dragged away, but when Noreen knelt down and explained quietly that the “Bubbies need t’ work up to you… You’re very special”, she seemed to understand, particularly after ‘Uncle Clem’ asked her to give him lots of hugs to pass on. He was good with hugs.

Xander didn’t miss the exchange, nor did Spike, and the following day a very large bunch of flowers were delivered with the message “Just because… Thank you to our wonderful Aunty Noreen and Uncle Clem.” A rather tearful Clem arrived on their doorstep that night with a small basket of kittens to return the gesture. He had always had a ‘good’ family and now included the boys (and children) in it.

Spike answered the door, leaning heavily on his cane and smiled. “Come in mate, kiddies ‘ll play with the kitties but then you take ‘em back for yourself yeah? We’ve got enough mouths ta feed… Anyway… Was a right nice gesture you and the missus – flowers were well deserved. Little’un here don’t know her own strength yet. How are the kids anyway?”

 

At that point Margaret toddled over to ‘Unca’ and was lifted onto Spike’s lap, Clem amazed as his friend switched to game face, bit his wrist over the scar, then allowed the small one to drink.

“They’re um fine… wonderful… She?”

“Don’t worry mate… no vampire just… Reckon it’s sommit about me and her an’ her Da bein’ connected and this little un’s I dunno, she seems to need it… just a few times a week – all good.”

As the tiny Margaret drank – both blood and magic from Spike, she let her joy be known to *any* magical being in the vicinity. Poor Clem fell off his chair with the blast, rising with tears in his eyes. “Good glory be!”

Spike was positively grey and weakly eased the ‘Little Miss’ back onto the floor. “You an’ me both mate… No bloody wonder me pins are still out of perfect workin’ order! She’s a… fire cracker, drains more than a fledge every time… tell ya that for nothin’. Can’t even…”

Xander flew into the room past Clem, to catch his partner. Even sitting, after the draining physically and magically, Spike was in a dead faint.

A week later saw Spike in a wheelchair again, his ‘pins’ failing after each feeding. The other children didn’t mind, in fact were quite please that ‘Unca’ was seated and ambulant and regularly took trips down the hall to their rooms squealing gleefully in his lap. 

Xander worried constantly and tried to encourage his dear partner to drink from him. Spike had repeatedly refused. The vampire knew his demon was being drained… over and over, and if he started drinking from the source he might not be able to stop. 

It was post work and the children had all been tucked in – Margaret included and they finally had a few moments together, Spike trying to be chipper for his lover… because of late, their lovemaking had waned to nothing due to his condition – a loving hug and kiss about as much ardour as the vampire could muster before collapsing.

“Please Spike – this is crazy! She is draining you… anyone can see that… If you’re going to then…there’s human blood in the fridge… can you at *least* eat that? You have to eat something!”

There was a bluish tinge to Spike’s lips and Xander didn’t miss the listless effort to brush away a long lock of hair from his eyes.

“Not really inclined ta eat…”

“Spike, I can’t *lose* you… You can’t keep feeding her, and don’t give me the ‘tisn’t that much crap! I know she pulls away your magical energy more.”

“Battle Brand said as much… Little un needs the magic an’ it’s all in the blood with us vampires. I… ohhh…”

“This is ridiculous… Spike?” The vampire had passed out.

Xander wheeled the chair to their room and gently lifted Spike onto their bed, then rang Giles… again.

“Who dares ring the Well?”

“Giles it’s Xander… I’m sorry to bother but we really have no other… well our circumstances… I have to know Giles… Spike is *so* ill… and she keeps… and the kids are…” Xander gave in to worry and grief, pulled the phone away and began to sob in earnest.

“Xander?”

“Xander!!”

There was a long pause but eventually a shaky voice answered, “Sorry… my bad… just that… ahh geez!” There was a sniff and heavy sigh.

“It is time for you to bring them here.”

“All six kids and Spike!?”

“Indeed, Willow’s old coven will have answers.” 

Xander was about to ask another question but Giles had already hung up.

It seemed there were some arrangements to be made. He just thanked the lucky stars that semester break was coming and hoped Spike could hold out until then.

PART 12

The logistics of taking six toddlers with attending nurse, a technically dead invalid, and an able bodied but very worried dad through airports and across countries was ridiculous. 

A Swiss passport was organized for William Aurelius – and thanks to some connections, his date of birth, and the place was ‘adjusted’. His bank accounts and property in Geneva were cited in the application process and all went to plan. The association with a separate family trust based in Switzerland was also useful. Spike grumbled rather unconvincingly that he should have an *English* passport, but when it was pointed out that Europe was all-in-one these days and that the Swiss passport came with special privileges, there was no more argument.

The children all had to have their own USA passports complete with custody papers… which to Xander’s distress also included him actually having to carry Willow’s death certificate (on the advice of the lawyer who tidied up Willow’s affairs) since apparently fathers ‘stealing’ children out of the country was still a concern.

The three little girls were organized with new pink sweaters and soft pants for their travel (courtesy of the lovely Noreen – and Clem whose contribution was to ‘ohh and ahhh’ and give them all hugs when they first presented dressed). Each had a different ‘Groove girl’ icon on the front and all had little pink backpacks with the matching icon. They all were allowed one soft toy, a favourite book, some special snacks (tubs of mixed sweets) and a special present that they were only to open when they were on the plane.

Their younger brothers were also in soft travel attire – though unlike their sisters, Noreen and insisted on one green and one purple outfit. They also had backpacks with a toy, book and two jars of their favourite baby jelly each, and they too had a present from Aunty Noreen and Uncle Clem (as their sisters kept reminding them).

Xander was looking positively grey, as was Nurse Susan by the time they waited in line to check in. 

Margaret had been without Spike’s blood for three days by the time they got on the plane and was therefore listless and with a fever. Xander was terrified that they would not make it to England in time for either of them. Xander had been feeding Spike for the last month from his own veins to supplement the human blood now being all but force fed to him from a held bottle with teat, but Margaret had been draining him so much each time she fed he had no energy to even feel hungry. Something was still going terribly wrong.

The dear woman at the check in counter noted the wheelchair pre arranged by Nurse Susan, the tiny girl wrapped in a white blanket crying weakly and the distressed father.

The tired, handsome brunette handed over nine passports and the documents required to take the children with him, “I think you need this too… um…” he dug around in his bag for Willow’s death certificate. 

The woman looked over the counter, only to spy three little girls, according to their passports, Maisy, Lucy and Sadie, all blinking wide green eyes at her while their dear little twin brothers tugged at their shirts that had been tucked into their pants by Nurse Susan. She noted the date of death of ‘Mother’ on the provided certificate… so many little ones and then this dear man’s wife had died only a few months ago! She read the aneurism note and excused herself to blow her nose, cursing herself for not wearing waterproof mascara. 

As she dabbed the tissue under her eyes so as to avoid ‘smudging’, the pretty blonde attendant, Genine (herself a mother), watched the quiet easing of the two little boys onto their invalid uncle’s lap and sharing soft toys, and noted ‘William’s’ supreme effort to cover them with his soft travel blanket. 

Genine observed Daniel and Sebastian snuggling down to sleep in the lap of someone who was obviously gravely ill and in the wheel chair but also much loved.

She went back to business, “Just a couple of quick things… and I know you are going to be asked this many times… but reason for travel?”

Xander’s well rehearsed answers went out the window and all he could manage was ‘Their mother died after, umm, Margaret, the little one, her first birthday… She… I’m sorry… um…” He had tears in his eyes as he nodded at the little one who was being cooled from her fever with a wet towel by a worried nurse and a tearful Xander tried to load the five cases onto the conveyor belt for weighing to distract himself. “Sorry… I will answer properly… just give me a moment…”

“It’s fine… so a family holiday then?” These were standard questions but the poor woman on check-in felt for the father.

Nurse Susan stepped in, her medical badge obvious on her lapel, “Not exactly, William suffers much the same syndrome as the dear love in my arms. We are hopeful that the research team and the facility at Oxford will actually hold perhaps relief, if not a cure. I am Nurse Susan Batzanis by the way… Hi… Just for your records… William will need assistance boarding etc, but I am here for both and will certainly be carrying Margaret. Sorry to just jump in there…”

Genine leaned forward over the desk and was touched to see the wide eyed little girls, the twin brothers now pushing up against the invalid William, and the nurse back to gently rocking the little girl in her arms. The woman also took in the father of the brood nodding his thanks to Susan before taking a moment to check on the friend in the wheelchair and whispering reassurance to the little girls. She made a quick decision. There was plenty of space in Business Class particularly downstairs. These folks had a continent then an ocean to cross before they got to their destination.

Xander was very worried when the woman smiled and said “One moment please” then took all their passports over to an officious looking supervisor at the ‘One world flyer’ desk, not sure if there was a problem with Spike’s or did they not have enough seats, or… or… Spike felt the worry and grabbed his hand holding on for dear unlife and looking apologetically at his dear partner. If they were unable to travel then he was resigned… he would feed Margaret until he was dust.

“Mr… Harris?” 

Xander flew back to the counter, “Yes?”

“My supervisor has agreed to upgrade your… ‘party’ to Business Class for the trip to the UK. We feel it is easier for us to manage and will be more comfortable for the children as the seats all recline to horizontal and the wheelchair access is so much easier. Also it means you will have access to our lounge as soon as you are through security.”

Xander could not fathom it… such kindness from a stranger?

“I… Um… Ghod! Thank you!!! How can we…”

Nurse Susan stepped forward again, “Bless you… indeed I’m sure my employer here” she touched a still highly emotional Xander on the arm, “will write to your airline regards you and your supervisor’s compassion and actions.” Even Susan was a little emotional, “This is just… so wonderful of you!”

Margaret reacted a little to the emotion charged moment and just as the airline worker saw the blonde in the wheelchair convulse a little weakly, she inhaled hard and felt quite tearful herself. Later, former flight attendant now ground staff, Genine would put it down to the early months of pregnancy, but for now, simply handed over boarding cards, directed them to security and the ‘club’ and put a special note against their entries regards ‘*Priority 1*. Nurse travelling with party, wheelchair and assistance required.’

 

Nurse Susan was wonderful. She had distracted the girls once in the airline club by taking them to the toilet, leading them to the free food and drinks provided, and then settling them to watch television. The boys had both simply crawled up and onto Spike’s chair again (with help), and now one was tucked under each arm snoozing against his cool form. Xander was holding the still listless Margaret but noted his lover, the boys heat alone was comfort. The trip would still be stressful but at least now… maybe… He pushed a micro-fibre travel rug over the sleeping pair and Spike again. It was comfort for all three.

They were assisted to the plane, and the seats were wide enough that two girls sat on one, Xander took Sadie (and various others during the flight) the boys were still happy to sit with Spike who had been lifted onto an aisle seat next to Xander, and Nurse Susan had Margaret in her lap. The children all behaved extremely well given the long day and were the girls were thrilled to get a little pack of crayons and a coloring book *and* a chocolate!

The attendants on the flight were more than accommodating. They asked if William needed to recline and to what angle, in the end his seat adjusted so he was lying comfortably but could still interact. Margaret’s bottle (containing some of the last of Willow’s milk) was heated to the body temperature, the children all provided with a meal almost immediately their settling, and Nurse and Xander attended as needed. 

Xander managed half a serve of rice and teriyaki beef and a glass of Zinfandel then swapped Sadie for Margaret and reclined completely to sleep the rest of the way. It would be Nurse Susan’s turn to snooze on the next leg, for now she dealt with three little chatty girls who were busy charming the lovely male attendant Germaine with stories that were part fantasy and part true. 

Flight attendant, Germaine was lovely, apparently listening very carefully then distracting them by showing them the television that ‘pops out of your seat!’ The squeals of delight that followed as he selected the cartoon channel and offered them each an ice cream was all he needed as a reward, but the grateful look on the Nurse’s face as she turned having just stood to check on the male invalid and the tiny girl in the father’s arms, melted him completely. She looked so tired, as had the father as they boarded.

Germaine had seen this before, AIDS/HIV ravaged families – it had been why he had left Oxfam in Kenya and applied for a ‘regular job’ back home. Xander woke around two hours into the flight and encouraged Susan to recline and sleep. Spike was still out for the count as were the boys and the rest of the plane was quiet, so he pushed the call button and asked for a cool drink. 

It ended in a dialogue with Germaine that included their similar experiences in sub-Saharan Africa and the care of a sick loved ones (in Germaine’s case his dear brother whose death led to his ‘African experience’). Xander was appreciative of the young man’s company and all the more as a voice from the ‘executive bed’ said quietly, “Oi you lot, either quieten down or give a chap a bit of a tilt so’s ‘e can have his own two pennies…”

Germaine moved swiftly to assist and angled the pale invalid up a little with a “Can I get you anything?” 

“Could go a triple scotch, single malt if ya c’n oblige – ta Mate.”

Germaine looked to Xander who simply shrugged and smiled. As he excused himself to fulfil the request, the attendant didn’t miss Xander reaching over and gently stroking the other man’s cheek then kissing his hair. This was certainly no ‘ordinary’ family. He had already talked to Nurse Susan briefly and knew that the children’s mother was this ‘Xander’s’ best friend for life and the mother of his children, but it was obvious that he had lived another life outside that partnership. Sometimes life demands that… Germaine watched Xander with the little ones and felt for him even more.

In the end their flight was *very* easy, the girls had watched television then snoozed for the four hours, the boys and Margaret the same. Though the youngest cried pitifully and was fed another of her mother’s dwindling supply as they descended in order that her ear pressure might adjust. 

Xander knew, Spike hadn’t eaten for twelve hours at least and they still had another leg of their flight and a car ride before the coven.

The children were handed all sorts of little extras as they moved to leave the plane, Sadie Maisie and Lucy all hugged Germaine and the other nice lady who had handed them ice creams in Uncle Clem time honoured fashion. The boys hand in hand, and ushered by the Nurse, simply waved shyly but took the sugar banana and small water bottles offered, with a smile. Margaret was (thankfully) asleep, as was an almost whitish/grey Spike as they departed the plane.

At the last moment Germaine stopped Xander. “I’ll arrange something for you guys OK? Just … hold on once you are through customs, or whatever and get them to call the airline.” 

The line in security was (again) long but the wheelchair and nature of their party saw them in the line for only twenty minutes or so. The airline had rung through and identified the group as ‘priority – medical’. The wheelchair was searched manually and the scanner for all their little backpacks and bags revealed nothing of concern. To Spike’s embarrassment, as his wheelchair was examined he needed help, and was lifted up and forward by his dear Xander resulting in a few tears on his lover’s shoulder. He would feed the little Margaret tonight by hook or by crook… but knew that if that was the case then even standing supported in his lover’s arms might no longer be possible. 

Other than that little incident, however, their passage through the passport check for international travellers was reasonably easy. The blonde was obviously so pale and in need of care, that all questions were directed to Xander who again gave up Willow’s death notice and the custody papers for all the children then politely answered all the questions.

“Mr Harris?”

“Yes”

“Reason for travel?”

Xander paused, looked at the children beside him and the wheelchair.

“Well… I guess … family”

“Specifically?” The rather officious customs officer seemed to have missed the memo re looking over the counter!

Xander was becoming more than stressed but Spike grabbed his hand and pushed his chair forward. He was so positively thin, grey and obviously ill that it was all but an imbecile who could not tell the reason. Once again the tiny Margaret was being towelled down by Nurse Susan and held close as she too suffered.

Spike rallied enough to rasp out “Friend here’s takin’ me home ‘n if we’re lucky… I’ll survive long enough to see…” Spike could not continue as for some reason he began coughing violently enough to leave blood on the blanket… he remembered his mother doing that… it was when he sent for Dr Gull… again. How ironic if he were to succumb to a similar ailment in the end. “… the little ‘un cured… of course!”

The officiousness suddenly dropped and the older customs officer stamped all their passports, handed back Xander the official papers he was forced to carry and said with a compassionate smile, “I hope you have a successful trip.” Then was charmed by the happy smiles of three little girls and waves from the boys who were now back in Spike’s lap for ‘speedy ambulation reasons.

The big bag full of ‘pull up’ nappies and regular ones for the boys and Margaret, and their emergency bottles and was hung over the back of Spike’s chair and they were waved through.

Luckily they did not have to move into sunlight at any point, sadly there was a three hour delay due to severe storms, but they were in the airline club and with a quiet word to staff, bottles were heated for them and the lounge suites more than adequate for the small children to sleep on, which they were encouraged to do. Food was had then naps ensued – although dark haired Sadie refused to settle and wandered around chatting to other bemused guests – finally finding a youngster her age from Germany. The mother smiled widely and let the little girl babble away to her son – who did likewise in German… there was no need for understanding really, and as soon as the crayons and colouring book from Sadie’s previous leg came out, scribbles and odd four year old drawings came to the fore. The rather voluptuous brunette mother nodded politely to Xander who came searching for the little girl and was looking decidedly stressed. She hadn’t missed the triplets and twins combination – nor the ill two he was accompanying.

Xander simply took an old lesson from Spike (in the more lucid moments insisting he should learn other languages) and said, “Fielen Dank Fraulein.”

The pretty woman brightened, “Aber du Deutch gespricht!” She jumped up and held out her hand “Ich bin Mariella und du?”

Xander dropped all attempts and simple replied, “Ich bin Xander, Guten… oh goodness I really don’t speak German… so…”

Marielle switched easily to English, “But it was nice of you to try. Your daughter is very friendly.”

Xander was suddenly both humbled and at ease for the first time in the trip. “Yes she’s a bit of a people person, have to get myself a big gun when she’s older.”

Marielle looked momentarily worried until he quickly added “For the boyfriends of course… ummm just kidding!” Marielle looked decidedly relieved then smiled.

After that there was a relaxed talk with not just Marielle but also her husband Andras – much around the topic of the European Union and their ‘take’ on its effects. But gradually the other children rose, toddled over and soon their son Stathis had more than enough playmates. 

It wasn’t until Nurse Susan came through, a sleeping girl in arms, and tapped Xander gently, that the couple from Aachen remembered that there were at least six not five children in the family. 

The nurse whispered something into Xander’s ear before he turned back to them… “Excuse me for a minute, are you OK with… I just need to see to… my ummm...”

The couple nodded – the children were all happily playing and the nurse stayed, with sadly, an obviously ill little girl.

Xander rushed to his partner’s side. Spike was panting a little, unnecessary for a vampire but reflective of his condition.

Xander was furious and desperately worried all at once, “You fed her again didn’t you!!?”

It was a laboured slow voice, almost monotone and for Xander, far too like Willow in her last days, “’Course I did you bloody twonk… Little Miss was wanin’ can’t have” he coughed hard again, took a moment then continued, “can’t have that…”

Xander didn’t fail to note. The skin on the arms had lines reflecting his *real* age, the dullness in those normally crystal blue eyes spelt ‘end’ and the apparent inability to fall into game face – even when presented with his claimant’s neck, spelt the last trip to dust.

Xander was desperate, “Just hold on… please Spike… look!” He grabbed a plastic knife from the food table (metal implements having been banned since the terrorist scare) and dragged it roughly across his wrist. It would leave a nasty scar but that was of little concern now.

Spike had, unseen to the rest of the family and even the Nurse, fed Margaret again and was now so drained that he was hardly able to latch on to an open cut. He sucked at the wound site two or three times then released exhausted.

Within minutes, the call for their flight occurred and a motorised vehicle was waiting for the family – the airline had come through once again.

Xander once again slept on the flight. Spike too slept – both men happy to host some little ones on their seat and the hostess of the moment, Rhonda, more than willing to assist whenever needed.

Nanny Susan stayed awake for a time but eventually she too succumbed to sleep. The advantage of the business class seats allowing her to tuck Margaret, Lucy all in with her, the others were in the bed next to them, two girls opposite, and their father hugging his partner close, petting him until Spike slept.

At the other end of the trip they had little problem, it was midnight as they arrived. They were asked questions at immigration and documents produced, and before the exhausted Xander could register that all was well, all the passports were stamped and they were directed to the ‘green’ door.

A trolley of luggage and wheelchair accompanied the group and Xander almost collapsed when he saw the two young coven members with a sign ‘Xander and Family’ standing at the end of the exit ready to welcome them.

Spike was again near comatose, and Margaret crying weakly – both for associated but different reasons. Thankfully the ‘hire-bus for twelve’ had a wheelchair lift, even so Xander worried … again.

Kalia and Jon managed to drive them safely to the coven… but as Margaret was carried inside, someone from the coven whispered “Willow’s children”, and the magical headquarters experienced an enormous blast of magic and associated draining that had every wiccan on their knees and the resident watchers likewise as Margaret took what she needed. 

Margaret looked decidedly better, but Spike was unconscious and, leaving the children to be cared for by Susan and the coven, Xander grabbed his too light lover from his wheelchair, cradled him against his body and yelled “Please!!! He needs blood!! And… *help*!”

Kaila struggled up and simply said “This way… Mistress Lilliana will know what to do.”

 

PART 13

Mistress Lilliana was a white haired rather plump woman who had obviously been quite a buxom beauty in her day. Now in her mid sixties her eyes still danced with a hint of mischief and love of life. She was both healer and seer, and one had the sense that despite her motherly nature and natural calm, she would be an awesome opponent if ever crossed.

The Mistress knew of Margaret’s draining, not so much as it affected her, but that it tore down the ward she had on her room – the coven’s inner sanctum.

As she saw the state of panic on Xander’s face and the overly thin utterly unconscious figure in his arms, there was no need or time for formal introductions.

“Take him through here, quickly.” She ushered them into a small space with a bed behind an overly embroidered curtain then turned as Xander settled Spike onto the silk covers, “Kaila, ask cook for the fresh coven blood we have gathered. It’s in the cold room. And have Gillian attend us immediately, tell her we will need to feed him manually a la coma patient – she will know what to bring.”

She turned back to Xander who was obviously exhausted and was stroking his dear heart’s hair and begging him to hold on. He looked up teary eyed as the mistress addressed him, “You have done the right thing to come here. The Battle Brand has informed me of your friend’s plight – and of your relationship with both Willow and the vampire William. 

“This day and three to come will be long and harrowing there is no doubt, but we will have your partner on the mend by then. As far as his long term full recovery? That vision has not yet been afforded me. I have seen Margaret and he seated studying together some time in the future – she is around ten I would suggest, so I surmise things will improve. That is all the hope I can give at this point.”

“So… no dust?”

“Not if we act quickly. We have collected blood from all the coven members – a mere bag each – over the last seven days, well since we knew you were coming. They are here because of their magic so their blood is likewise blessed. It will help, but we will have to insert a feeding tube it is why I called for…”

“Gillian… Hi” The young woman was atypical in the coven. A trained doctor she had come to magic late but was an absolute gift to the coven, treating ailments from carbuncles to cracked bones, but it was her knowledge of trauma surgery that was most useful. After four years in the emergency at Manchester Hospital she had a knack of knowing what to do – and the contacts if she didn’t.

Xander watched her unpack some sort of kit, scrubbing her arms and hands furiously in the small sink in the bathroom and nodding to the Mistress who pulled the gloves onto sterile hands. She then moved to the bed and opened a strange looking pack containing a tube around a centimeter wide.

Xander was a little unsure of his role so stepped back and looked on helplessly as various items were placed around his lover and the blood delivered in a large cooler.

Gillian looked up and smiled sympathetically, “I wonder could you hold his head Xander, I need it angled back a little while I push the tube to his stomach. There may be a moment as I pass his gag reflex.”

All Xander could think was “If only this were easier!”

Xander held his head at the appropriate angle and watched as the tube was fed skilfully down his partner’s oesophagus and into his stomach. Spike was so deeply comatose that the warning regarding any convulsions was utterly unnecessary. The tube was attached to the first blood bag but for Xander nothing changed.

He sat with his dear friend as seven bags of magically infused coven blood were gradually emptied into the vampire’s stomach. The only time Xander moved from his place holding the vampire’s hand was to go to the toilet once and to visit the children twice. The latter being easy, they had all settled including Margaret and were sleeping through the jetlag under careful scrutiny of coven members. This time Nurse Susan too was able to snooze.

After seven half litre bags of blood Spike stirred a little and opened his eyes, his dear Xander was there but his head was on the bed, the man asleep seated. He squeezed the hand that held his own, then realized he had no voice, the feeding tube taking that from him.

Xander roused slowly then realized his lover was awake. “Gillian? Nurse? Oh Goddess *someone*!” 

He need not have panicked. A smiling Gillian attended and gently eased out the tube, with a quiet pat as it came out completely. 

Xander was instantly at his side and all but tearful as Spike again coughed a little, but this time it was reflexive. His throat was sore from the treatment, but the cough had no indication of illness anymore. The magic within the blood seemed to have done what Xander could not.

He was thrilled as his loved one took his wrist and actively sucked then licked the cut closed, then pulled the still too pale and thin blonde to his chest to hug him soundly.

“You *never* do that again… please! I can’t lose you… I can’t lose you!!!!”

“She’s yours Xan… chit deserves a chance… last bit weren’t my choice anyway – she just got what I couldn’t provide.”

“*She* a one and a bit year old girl, nearly brought down the coven! And you were daring to feed her!”

“Never said I was clever did I… Little un needed it, she’s your’s and Red’s what’s a bloke to do?! She’s alright though… now I mean…”

Xander moved to the bed then lifted his recovering partner into his lap, stoking his hair and encouraging Spike to snuggle into his chest he said quietly, “She’s fine… better than ever… She’s sleeping with her sisters tonight.”

It seemed as much as Spike could manage to answer, “Right then”, before he fell into a deep sleep. Unlike the coma, however, he pushed into the man holding him, tried to edge closer to lick and suck at the flesh in front of him in his human guise, much like a tiny child might, a tease that had Xander contemplating just how long it had been since they last coupled.

Mistress Lilliana smiled as the vampire rallied a little then slept. “There he is… Hold him tonight Xander as both of you will need that… but tomorrow with more of the coven blood he should begin his recovery.”

“But Margaret?”

“I will instruct her personally. She must learn to draw from the earth, not just from those around her. For one so young, it will not be words but tapping into her instincts that will adjust her actions. William here cannot continue to feed her. It *will* dust him.”

“He was prepared to do so… I knew… he said…”

“Xander you hold a most extraordinary individual in your arms. A true noble. He would go into battle to defend you without thought for his own safety, Angel knew that, Illyria knew and rewarded him for it (or cursed him that is yet to be determined), and Margaret feels it. This beautiful soul strives always for others… though he may protest the contrary – even soulless he protected and adored his challenged Sire.

“Be at peace Xander. The wiccans of this coven will care for your dear children, indeed we have both crèche and kindergarten on site, and more young mothers from our county than you care to count assisting. Nurse Susan has been bedded down with Margaret and your dear one will be well enough in the afternoon, to drink for himself I am sure.”

Lilliana then laid her hands on both men and invoked a healing spell then a prayer to Gaia herself. Xander didn’t miss the kicking off of shoes and solid planting of feet as she lay her hands on both men’s foreheads. 

Xander felt suddenly warm and also began to cry without conscious thought. Spike was likewise in tears even though barely rousing from sleep.

Lilliana simply said, “Do not be distressed by your tears, nor those of William’s, you have been so strong for the children, but here you are permitted to grieve for her… Now… join your dear one on my bed and… sleep”

It was literally hours before he roused again. 

He was in Spike’s arms – this time arms that seemed stronger, that held and caressed. He worried that he was imagining it. Then he heard the strong beloved baritone…

“Fed me again whilst you were sleepin’ Can’t say as I c’n ever repay ‘em. Pins still not workin’ but least I c’n work me chin and…” He tried to sit up a little but failed dismally, “Oh Bugger.”

Xander was just thrilled there was *any* improvement. “Shhhh It’s fine – just think how good you will feel in a few days.”

Spike relaxed back with a heavy sigh, “Yeah, but played this game before haven’t we. Ol’ Spike the yo-yo…” 

Two days later saw Spike sitting up in his and Xander’s own bed, and well enough to see the children.

 

Part 14 

The little ones hugged and snuggled and warmed… It was the salve Spike needed beyond anything… The children were his too… Xander knew that, Willow had known it in her own way, the Battle Brand knew, and the Mistress Lilliana knew… so did (thankfully unbeknownst to William) the whole coven.

A month on, Xander had taken sabbatical (leave without pay) from the college. The management knew of his deceased wife’s challenges and were genuinely saddened by her demise, but also understood that grief took time to resolve.  
Hearing his daughter’s latest health challenges and need to seek assistance in the UK was… there were no words. The Chancellor of the college worried that there might be no return of their best lecturer, but HR was adamant that it was worth admitting the time off without loss of tenure.

 

Xander was amazed by the disciplined approach of the coven. He always assumed ‘new agey’ equalled free and easy… but it could not have been farther from the truth. 

The children were organized, fed, dressed and schooled and all of them revelled in their respective groups. His girls all found friends within days… Sadie particularly quick to find Magenta, a magically gifted girl who’s mother was from Kenya, whilst Maisie hooking up with a young lad, Dajev from the Ukraine. Lucy too eventually found a little blonde local girl called Tracey to associate with - the two were both terribly shy, and sat aside from the others, usually giggling and ‘sharing secrets’. Lucy was Spike’s favourite of the three… he somehow saw himself in the nervous, intelligent little girl.

The boys were in their element – a large group of exuberant boys and girls their own age. They played and ate and snoozed and played again – a complete delight. They regularly visited Spike, accompanied by Nurse Susan, of an afternoon and were both just walking and at the beginning of the ‘babble’ stage. Sometimes Nurse Susan brought their playmates also, and noted the extra spark of pleasure in the Vampire’s eye – it was nothing to do with feeding and everything to do with being a father.

But again it was Xander who needed help. His dear one was still *so* slow to mend and the coven was really struggling.

Spike slept almost all day everyday and now it seemed almost all night as well. There was no real explanation but eventually something *did* seem to be healing and two weeks later, he asked to be helped to stand.

They were reasonably strong legs that bore him up and a perfectly delighted grin that accompanied the event, sadly his back still felt like it was on fire, that he would keep to himself if he could, as he observed the wide smile of his lover.

“See Pet? Just needed a bit of time.” The comment garnered a relieved slap from Xander – there was no weight in it – but was then accompanied by the catching of the vampire as he began to lose balance and collapsed.

He sat on the ground with the vampire over his lap stroking a very pale vampire obviously in pain, “Geez Spike I’m sorry … I’m so sorry!”

Spike took an unnecessary breath then whispered “Not your’s t’ be sorry about Pet, back’s just a bit sore is all.” It was the first time he had admitted it.

Mistress Lilliana was informed immediately and the MRI revealed three badly compromised disks and three cracked vertebra in the lumbar region… and the magical scan pulsed at the same point. Something had been taken from him in the blast that was not letting his own healing abilities ‘kick in’.

A day later, Spike was flat on his front in a full spinal bed. Three of the best coven healers had been focussing on his back and chanting but it seemed that a long struggle was to come.

His solace was being visited by their girls who were pleased to ‘cheer up Unca Spike’ and did as instructed by Nurse Susan. The three sat on the floor under him and showed their latest creations from the nursery school they were now attending at the coven, then each dutifully knelt or stood, and kissed him on the forehead.

Xander entered as the girls were leaving, they all received a hug from Dad, but as the last, Lucy, departed Xander saw his partner once again in game face and dripping blood tinged tears onto the floor below. He flew to his side.

“Talk to me… Can you talk to me… Come on please, Spike. Are you hurting? Shall I get the healers again… Oh please! Tell me what I can do?! I can’t stand seeing you like this… We’ll fix this… We’ll fix you.”

The affect of the words were only to make the injured vampire cry even harder. He remembered the original injury. 

He had watched Gunn then his Grandsire die before being launched by the blast, and at the same time drained of his magic, before being slammed against the edge of metal industrial bin. Any human would have been permanently disabled or dead from the impact but his vampire system struggled to recover once Clem took care of him.

He struggled to stay conscious, “’S OK Luv… ‘S OK… Maybe had me time… ‘n if ya can’t fix… Pull out that wood and give me a permanent rest, yeah?”

Spike’s eyes closed and Xander went from concerned to frantic. 

The healers were all called back but their ministrations seemed to have little effect, even their laid on hands gave no improvement and little relief. Spike would die in agony or drug induced oblivion if possible and no-one at the coven could reassure Xander. 

The magic was one thing, but at this stage drugs were the best option, morphine the drug of choice as it usually affected heart and lungs… the latter not so much a problem with vampires therefore the dose could be ‘upped’.

Xander returned to the girls’ room kissing them all and lying through his teeth as he told them Unca Spike was ‘just fine… but a bit sick at the moment’. Even at four the girls weren’t fooled and all asked for a ‘special bottle’ that night – these days, sadly (but thankfully) it was from another wiccan at the coven. 

Gemma had lost her second boy twin to natural causes he (Thomas) died in-vitro, the cause a suspected heart problem. Hence her lovely Lance was born too early at 32 weeks. She continued to express for two and caressed Xander’s darling boys along with her own, realizing that without the intervention she might have lost her firstborn and her own life, and appreciated even more what Xander was trying to do.

Gemma gave up her milk willingly… her Lance had no hope of consuming her supply, so it was cherished and frozen for him and the other boys (and of course Margaret) that she now fed. 

Her supply was ample and regular, except on the day they buried Thomas, Lance’s twin. 

There had to be an autopsy, and he had to be named, then the tiny casket was buried… The whole coven grieved – many of them mothers sending blessings to aid the grieving parents… 

Perhaps as a consequence – no-one knew - three days later, Gemma’s partner renounced his Coven vows and walked out, never to return.

Xander visited and helped settle all the children, checked his patient, then went to watch some television… something mindless… anything mindless. He would never be able to thank Gemma and her partner… never… to lose a child and then help others? He was so humbled by their generosity.

What he didn’t notice, nor anyone else apparently, was the tiny girl who was now toddling, and toddled to Unca Spike’s sick bed.

At two the next morning, a regular check time, Nurse Susan looked in on Spike, only to see, once again, that Margaret had fed of him. Mistress Lillian came on the run. The little Miss had snuck in and taken of him, but this time there was something different. 

Margaret was asleep on Spike’s chest. He was grey and drained as ever, but something about his magical signature was stronger. It was unprecedented, but for Xander, the news was wonderful.

Spike could have pushed away the little Margaret, but chose to pull her onto his chest, scored it, and let her take her fill. But somehow she had registered her ‘obligation’ to return the favour and swung to the side so she could touch the floor. The near two year old instinctively planted her feet and despite continuing to feed, this time gave back far more magic than she took.

And unbeknownst to Xander, Spike’s back began to heal. 

Xander was just about to enter and pull Margaret away but paused as Mistress Lilliana arrived and opted to say, “Why would he?... Goddess Why?? He’s already weak!”

Mistress Lilliana turned on him, “Would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Give up everything… for you children?”

“G#$%!!!! Of course!”

“So you are denying William the same right?”

“What?? No!! Oh G@#$ But he *has* to be OK!!!”

Mistress Lilliana levelled dark green eyes on him, “I think you will find that the combination of the Battle Brand and the ensouled Vampire will provide quite a unique young woman.”

“But how does that work?? what about Spike?!!!… He is *dying* F#@$ sake! I *can’t* do this alone!!!”

Xander was genuinely frantic. This was ridiculous – they were postulating and predicting and his lover was… *dying*, *dusting*, or even *leaving the realm*??!!!!

In the end there was no rational thought, Xander tried to get to his partner for minutes, which could have been hours… only to be held back and watch him feeding Margaret again and again, as she rested and latched back on… but through tearful eyes he eventually saw the truth. Spike had been placed on the floor, she was feeding from his breast much as any child would a mother, and had her tiny hand wrapped around Spike’s thumb. But she was kneeling, connected to the earth.

And when her father entered, she stretched out her other arm instinctively and drew him down to comfort, first her then his own partner. 

She had few words yet but ‘Da’ and ‘hug’ were two of them…

Xander dismissed Nurse Susan – the happy youngster on one hip, but was utterly distressed so rushed to his partner’s side. The last time this had occurred Spike was down for weeks!

He was most definitely drained but had been given back something...

“Chit gave of herself… didn’t have to… but right nice. Look! She’s on the shy side of two but knows how to pull from the earth!”

Xander had seen it too. Margaret clearly had bare feet planted as she suckled, and had crawled up afterward to lie with her game faced ‘uncle’.

 

Part 15

Spike began to improve slowly but something else was happening and it was Margaret again. 

She seemed to want to be with him almost constantly. For some reason she knew to pull from the Earth as she drank, but also knew that Unca Spike needed rest and comfort. 

After each feeding she cried because Unca seemed not able… and Nurse Susan would come on the run and her dear Unca would be fed again with the bottles like they gave her but a little bigger… and as he drank, she would relax on his chest and lick the place he always made for her to drink. 

Her next best hugger was Daddy, but she seemed know that he had others too, her brothers and sisters were all there.

Even at just coming up for two and a half she *knew*, she could bring every member of the coven to its knees, but Unca told her… and she listened… she listened as he asked to be rolled onto his side “You don’t hurt thems as what helps you! Family! Family is all Pet, you need to *protect* them That afternoon whe had donated from her ‘special chair’ before he read her some, ‘Can you say this’ by Dr Seuss *again* and always ended up tossing it against the wall before continuing with Christopher Robin… even at two and a bit she was torn between liking Piglet or Owl the best. Owl seemed so much like Spike.

It was twelve weeks of extreme worry for Xander as he saw his dear heart undulate between health and dusty death. Twelve weeks of terrifying ups and downs, but at the end of week eight a momentous breakthrough, Spike had stood without pain for the first time to the cheers of members of the coven, and was hugged by all the children. And that was when Xander cried as he realised that he needed the vampire as much as the children… no… or rather his need for the blonde one went so much farther… 

By week twelve Spike was again walking with a cane but this time knew that he was returning to full health, he felt strong and had taken to exercising his arms again – something he had been unable to do for some time.

The three girls were a joy and quite settled at the coven. Space was short and they still all slept in the one double bed which could be either blissful or a bun fight! The latter always sorted if father had to come in. They were already reading and apparently had their mother’s mind for studies and for magic – which they were being slowly encouraged to explore. They were loving to a fault and Xander delighted in late afternoon strolls with the three as they chatted away about all the things they had learned that day.

The boys were now in ‘sub-junior’ soccer and seemed to lean toward anything physical as a habit. The encouraging thing was that their magical signature too was strong, even at such a young age. The idea of two junior male wiccans with their heritage caused a ripple through the coven and beyond, it had been too long.

But Margaret was something more. She should still have been too young to understand her power, but somehow she did. She was allowed to visit Unca Spike ‘for a drink’ once a day but only if he had already drunk his limit in blood and had his special bottle on the side of the bed. She would always wait for that to be placed before wandering in.

These days she liked to wait until he was a little propped up by pillows and had time to read to her. She quite liked Winnie the Pooh and hugged her own teddy to her close every time Unca read another chapter or a poem… she even contemplated finding the North Pole herself one day.

And Spike improved and was back in a normal but specially low bed. Now whenever the little love fed, she slid down, planted her feet on the slate floor and drew from the earth. Spike giving back as much as he was able – as he always had, but now realising, this was a being so powerful that the whole spectrum of magic was hers to play with.

Xander saw it, the whole Coven did. Margaret may have been his by birth but she was also acting like… Lilliana said it first… increasingly like a fledgling vampire Childe whenever around Spike.

A very worried father stood at the door and stared, then, feeling the Mistress behind him, whispered, “But she’s not being turned… is she? Oh G$#% she’s not… I should…” He was about to move but felt the presence of the Mistress and the quiet word, “Don’t.”

“You know this is right. You know she will not be harmed by Spike, just as you would not harm her. She drinks of him and in turn, now imbues a little of Mother Earth’s strength each time she does so. She will be changed by the blood, but only that it makes her stronger, more bound to family, and to the ‘other’. When old enough she will return here to take my place – or to command a coven of her own that is clear. And the Battle Brand has seen it. She will have physical abilities at the extreme end of human, but family will train her and ground her. Do not fear for her, rather, let her be your littlest one Margaret. She needs you too… Her father is loved… precious… and so is the Mate of Spike.”

Lilliana’s quiet words meant everything. Xander wandered into the room and eased himself onto the bed behind his lover whilst the little one continued to feed from Spike’s wrist this time.

It had been weeks since Xander had touched Spike in such a way, previously simple petting or sympathetic touches to face or hands was the limit, now Spike felt it. His wonderful human was spooning him from behind, and he could feel every inch of the much loved warm body touching him. And then a wrist came around. His demon was already aroused so the bite was both gentle and painful for Xander and now three were joined in blood.

Margaret felt the love flowing between father and Unca and was not so much confused but incredibly excited. She stamped her feet and planted them as she took one last suck from Unca then toddled off to have Nurse Susan feed her the very last of Willow’s milk. Her joy was evident as she finished the bottle and planted her feet on the ground again – this time to send her happiness to Gaia and anyone connected to Mother Earth.

The ripple was not just evident, it was crippling. Every magical creature and most animals stopped for a moment and felt odd as the small girl once again touched their beings. Anyone with their feet to the floor dropped to their knees. Mistress Lilliana was a powerful witch, but she too paused as the little one took and gave. Her coven could not be compromised in such a fashion so regularly, but the Battle Brand had said that it was Spike who needed to school the little girl, and Lilliana knew that it would be in her coven, she had seen that much.

Xander worried that they would be banned from the Coven, and began to pack the children’s things but was staid by the Mistress’s hand, “You must not go and try to do it alone, it will dust your partner and possibly kill your other children.”

“But… I am so sorry!...”

Lilliana saw a man in distress as Xander dropped to his knees in front of her. 

“I just… I don’t know what to do! Willow was my best friend… she was the mother of all my children and now she’s gone… [hic] and Spike is my partner, my lover, my mate… please don’t make us leave… Please! At least take the other children… I [hic] I will try to be here as many days as I can.”

Mistress Lilliana turned on her best motherly tone, “There is no need to leave. We will deal with this issue – just as Spike will. The little girl is simply ‘finding her feet’ and she *needs* to interact with other people.”

Xander was holding his still incapacitated friend’s hand tightly with one hand and was literally begging…

“Please! Mistress… How can we fix this!?”

The Senior Wiccan simply took both his hands in hers and asked, “Please focus, my eyes won’t tell all but they *will* inform to some degree.”

He saw Margaret running with other children; he saw Spike standing at the winter solstice some time in the future; he saw his teenaged girls all decked out for winter solstice and his tall handsome sons for summer some years later. There were no words… except… “Where’s Margaret… later? Please does something?...!”

Mistress Lilliana turned a learned gaze on the worried father.

“She is not truly ours. Xander you knew this from the beginning, hers is a destiny that is well beyond mine. Her power outstrips mine and yet she is *so young* I will train her for as long as I can – as will her *other* father… and together perhaps we will combine to save Gaia who *is* struggling. She is the next Mistress, and none have yet seen her true power.”

Xander rallied a little, “I think I might have had a feel before… Her Mother… her mother…”

“Marked you… and though you don’t seem to feel it at the time, we all can… Indeed we all did the instant she was sentient again. But your love brought her back. 

“And your love rescued her and gave her peace and joy in the last years of her life… And as you were for your friend, the mother, now you are for her children. Their rock, their stability… You are as you have always been, but now are more. Your children are growing, and the product of love, despite their beginnings. And you have an almost recovered…” 

Xander turned, only to see Spike slowly pulling the ‘Little Miss’ up for a hug after feeding then miraculously, he wiggled pale toes and for the first time in weeks pushed week legs up a little more. It was the first true sign of recovery Xander had seen. 

The little one was gently removed by Nurse Susan and Xander bared his neck, easily taken, and for the first time in months, they moved together and when Xander lifted and shifted over him, Spike was able to happily drew his legs back with weak arms and joyfully invited the feeling as his lover sank down easily into his adored form.

Xander cried as he completed. There were no words but his partner was in game face and crying as he too released… there were no words. 

Spike was on the mend.

The following day a bevy of tiny children joyfully rushed to his bedside. He was so loved and they had all worried, even though so young… especially the girls. Their father hugged them hard as they entered the sick room.

On her way out Maisie could not help herself. “Papa why is Uncle Spike so very thin? I heard it was… Sorry Papa, just curious?” The five year old saw the distress on her father’s face and accepted the rather shaky hug… and knew there was something amiss. It was only the “We have worked a deal that will heal” that gave her hope. Maisie was ever the optimist.

Indeed Spike did improve. After two months he was well enough to celebrate the boys’ fourth and shortly after even walk (with cane) to the girls’ entering their first year of school. They were in a ‘posh’ area so the school was tremendous. Teachers called themselves by their first names and the children were encouraged to explore their strengths in all directions. The three girls *loved* school, particularly as all had arrived there with their wiccan buddies. The Head of School was himself a private practiser of the art… and very aware of the community in his midst. 

He interviewed a very nervous Xander (never one for schools!) then reassured the poor man that his girls would be well looked after. Knowledge of the family loss was almost too much but there were other relatives helping… at least a little. The principal Gerard made a note. The girls would be seen soon into the new year by the school psychologist and monitored. The loss was not to be discounted should they show ‘issues’ – particularly as triplets…

Xander provided all the paperwork and filled out so much paper as to kill five trees… then they… went home.

And Spike was standing, with Margaret at his side. The two year old grinning and said clearly “Look… Unca… Me… Unca!!!”

Xander congratulated and kissed all his girls (including Margaret) and ushered them all into the arms of Nanny Susan.

After they were inside he fell to his knees at his wonderful partner and began to drop heavy then copious tears of relief, or thanks, or grief… he was no longer sure… If his partner was truly on the mend, they were also one of… then he felt it… the link… It was all that was needed. Love… The Beatles had said it before he was even born… “Love is all you need”.

And what of Margaret? The connection with Spike was unmistakable and The Mistress had booked a meeting with both ‘parents’ the next day. She needed more magically and they needed a solution.

 

PART 16

The Mistress looked a little drained as she spoke to them from across her desk. 

“Margaret is now two and a half, and I have decided to tutor her myself every day in private. Your older girls can continue with their lessons in the general coven sessions – the boys will begin in the junior group next year. Margaret must start immediately but it will only be short sessions as she is so young - but has already proven her power and instinct to connect with Gaia. My main concern is her temper, you both will have a great influence on that – but she has brothers and sisters and will in all likeliness find some frustrations – which will no doubt be minor and a battle of wills. 

She is as any other young child and will be, at times, petulant and distressed. My concern is for the coven, as her power grows with her, and the temper tantrums few though they are, have already resulted in harm to the members here – several fainted in the last one, Jess dropped a large pot of soup (thankfully not hot) on her foot, and Rachel landed heavily face down and now sports a badly bruised cheek and hip.

I have spoken to the Battle Brand (much to his displeasure) and he has agreed to release some of his own funds if yours are inadequate. You see we have arranged a house on a small plot of land a mile or so away – just near the village green. It is a bungalow, has a cellar, chicken and rabbit runs and very pretty garden with vegetables and fruit trees on the plot. It is rather run down but the Brand surmised with your skills Xander that might be less of a problem. It does mean a permanent move to Britain and relinquishing your job Xander.”

Xander pondered for a moment then snorted a little, looking rather sad, “Think I’d be hard pressed to keep it now anyway. I’m sure the boss has a replacement after I’ve been away for so long. We’ll contact Clem and Noreen – sure they’ll be happy to pack up the apartment.”

Spike grabbed his hand and smiled, “Pet they might even want it now with the kiddies and their’s is really a bachelor pad. Last I heard Noreen’s younger brother wanted to move out of home, perfect. Leave the furniture, pack up what kiddies stuff you think we need – toys are all I reckon, and anythin’ of yours you figure you need or want and Bob’s your uncle.”

It was as though the Mistress was invisible as the two swiftly sorted their affairs but she smiled at the rather domestic scene and the pragmatic way the two adjusted to the idea.

“I really should go back Spike, we can’t let Clem do all that.”

“So cash in our return tickets and go back then come back.”

“What about a visa Spike I can’t work here legally or stay for a long time unless I…”

The Mistress cleared her throat, “The Battle Brand and I have fixed that. You will note that after the Sunnydale disaster and death of your parents that Mr Rupert Giles legally adopted you, here is your UK/European passport.”

“Don’t need to work anyway Pet – and you can tell the Brand to keep ‘is money but taa anyway… Long as you’ve got someone with a few contacts needing gems, I’ve got the cash for the house sorted.”

Mistress looked a little surprised but was rather insistent, “I think the Battle Brand would like to see his worldly assets put to good use and considers Xander very much as a son of sorts and therefore…” She handed over a bank cheque apparently from Giles for a hundred and eighty thousand pounds. “This is exactly half what you will need to purchase the property, the rest is yours to find. We negotiated with the owners and they are willing to wait a month should you struggle with the deal.”

Xander’s eyes went wide, “Mistress, I can’t accept this!”

“It’s not for you to accept, it is made out to the owners of the house. All you need to do is match it.”

Spike took over, though was beginning to look decidedly tired again, “We’ll have the dosh. Tell the folks we’ll take it.”

“You don’t want to see the property first?”

“Trusted ya this far Mistress” Spike made a point of looking around the room, “’N figure you have mighty fine taste – at least for interiors, so thanks but we’ll go on your word, ‘sides me ol’ self here really not up to a daylight inspection.”

“Oh yes William, I am sorry. I keep forgetting!”

“’S OK dear lady, lots do… must be the charm…” He would have finished the sentence with a customary smirk of old but instead felt decidedly ill of a sudden and grabbed for Xander’s arm “Pet… I need… I think I’m gonna…”

Xander knew the look and grabbed the waste basket from beside the desk and held his partner over his knees as he repeatedly heaved his last meal into the receptacle.

It was a very shaky vampire who was eventually eased into his partner’s lap in a sitting position. 

The Mistress removed the soiled container and returned without comment, simply quietly touching a still very worried Xander on the shoulder. “Just take him back to your rooms, it’s been a long day for all of us.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Nought to be sorry for. Your dear love is still recovering and that takes time. Let Margaret tend him in the morning. That will settle things, but for now kind hugs and love is all he needs.”

As Xander departed with his partner held tight against his chest, he all but sobbed, “Thank you… for everything… everything…”

“You are very welcome my darling, now go to and look after those whom are precious to you.”

Spike still had an odd greenish tinge to his skin and was alternating between sweating cold droplets and panting as they entered the suite.

Margaret had already made a fuss causing Nurse Susan to allow her to leave her cot and toddle into Pa and Unca’s room.

Xander worried as he placed his partner gently on the lowered bed and the little girl immediately latched on by biting down once more. Spike arched with the pain this time. But then something remarkable, she planted her feet and this time Xander saw the glow as she pulled from the Earth then offered her tiny wrist. Spike took but a mouthful, but it was enough.

Xander scooped her up and hugged her as it was apparent that ‘enough’ meant on the healing path again. They simply sat as Xander stroked first Spike then Margaret in succession and repeatedly.

Three other five year old girls joined them shortly after followed by the two three and a half year old boys. It was fitting. Spike was surrounded by family, so were they all. And Xander knew that they had pushed it today but Spike was still on the mend.

 

………..

A day later saw a far different picture. Xander booking his trip back. The children at school, and preschool, and Margaret back to the side of Spike but still rather tentative – his illness worried her and rightly so.

He rang Patch Dixon – the head of the community college and rather emotionally tendered his resignation. He apologised and thanked her profusely and *promised* one last visit on his short return, but also explained his youngest’s needs in terms of ‘medical attention not available in the USA’ – and the ongoing difficulties with his ‘brother’, Patch switched instantly into mother mode. 

“My dear you take care of your own and *you*! We will miss you dearly but my darling we will use your notes for many years to come… With your permission of course…”

“I’ll include a note to that effect in my resignation letter.”

The phone call ended pleasantly. Patch wishing him well and ‘locking in’ a coffee date on the second day he would be in their locale.

Xander was to leave the next day. The calls to Clem occurred early and the enthusiasm for the upper apartment quite… lovely. Noreen was heard to be shushing her baby as the news obviously garnered a solid vote of delight from the twins and her!

Afterward Spike commissioned three of the young wiccans to do a ‘bit of a shop’ on his behalf.

As the ‘hippie-mobile’ came around the front Spike walked slowly with his dear love. He felt… He held on tight as Xander kissed him soundly. 

“I… umm… Come back soon… yeah? Kids need you… I… Oh Xan don’t… don’t leave like the others!” 

Xander was faced with two arms full of collapsed very vulnerable vampire.

He kissed Spike possessively on the lips, “Not a chance in hell or heaven! See you in a week or so. Take care of the kids Dad… Yeah?”

Xander bade farewell to all his children, the girls understood but his boys cried as did Margaret… as did Xander. He would be back soon but what that meant to small children was very different.

…………….

The ensuing seven days included a legal handover of the lease to the delighted Noreen and Clem, the packing of the childrens’ toys and other items for shipping, and a quiet coffee with his former employer, who was touched as he teared up explaining his partner’s slow recovery, and his daughter’s malaise, but also heartened that the medical facility they were currently attending gave some relief.

Patch reached across the table and on a whim held his hand, “Now what about you my dear? You were our favourite you do know that? Are you taking care of you?”

An extremely overtired Xander said nothing but simply shook his head. “No Patch… but this is all we’ve got. My adoptive father has given us some money and… Margaret is being well treated.”

Patch had seen parents with ‘special’ children before, “You need to do the best for your little ones… including your littlest love. We are sad to lose you…”

Xander became rather teary… it wasn’t just Margaret at stake! A droplet escaped without his permission, “I would have stayed, I’m sorry…”

Patch was touched that a father of six was so stressed and trusting of her that he dropped a tear as he apologised and thanked her repeatedly, she stood, rounded the table and pulled him into a genuine hug, “You use me as a reference – anytime! Now, just how are those Englanders going to understand you?!”

Her answer was a snort and a ‘thanks’. She worried as he left his family problems were taking their toll. He looked too tired and drawn. The following Sunday the strict Catholic, Patch, struck a candle and sent a prayer for her former employee and family.

Clem and Noreen were ecstatic. The residence was perfect, his brother had moved in and with all the furniture remaining – along with pretty much everything else bar for the children’s toys and some personal items. The children had already grown so taking them made no sense – but might prove useful for Noreen’s brood, which (as it turned out – a grinning Clem broke the news) was to grow to four by the new year.

Xander hugged his old friend then a rather rotund (already) Noreen. Clem literally glowed with pride as he introduced his two little ones – already walking, then his wife’s younger brother – who could have been his own twin!

“So Spike?”

“Is on the improve… back walking with the cane… all of the good.”

“And the kids?”

“Girls at school – love it and good at it… typical Willow really… boys into ‘football’ – well it’s soccer there and join the girls next year for wiccan studies.”

“And M…”

“She’s the reason we’re leaving here. Clem you know what she was like here – now it’s ten times the power – and growing. Mistress is training her, but it will take the Battle Brand and Spike to groom her… I’m sorry to leave you like this but…”

“You *have* to be joking! A fully paid up lease until next June, all the furniture, children’s clothes etc – give us a break! You just get yourself back to your gorgeous family and worry about when your floppy pseudo-relatives might visit.”

Xander smiled at the door, “We’ll be waiting” then left. Left their home… forever.

………………….

Two days later an exhausted Alexander Lavelle Harris Giles arrived back home. 

On the anything to declare were a number of personal items that were duly checked – various gems with appropriate papers (from his Sunnydale days – who needed the stock market) and a wrapped gift for the girls containing all manner of creative play products – play dough, pencils, crayons… you name it.

In the end the customs official simply smiled sympathetically. Xander still carried his ‘wife’s death certificate and his own adoption papers (dated appropriately) and listed his reason for entering the country as permanent residency, listing the coven as his place of employ, which technically it was, for the moment.

Two phone calls were made – one to the Mistress, the other to the Battle Brand, both confirmed the legitimacy of his entry.

All would have been perfect but for the ‘sneaky F&*&ing bugger’ of a taxi driver who randomly decided to get them a ‘bit lost’.

It was unfortunate for the driver that he was half demon. As Miss Margaret took her evening meal and felt her Unca’s upset, she planted her feet and this time met it. Da was missing, and she *would* find him!

Spike gasped and passed out as she drained his magical and life energy and pulled from everything around her in her panic.

Mistress had warded all the coven rooms but Margaret was strong enough to break them all in her panic, and Spike was sleeping with his arms across all her siblings. She pulled from all of them, and the coven and the Earth.

The taxi driver was *compelled* to drive Da to his correct destination, within the hour, and the half demon waived the seventy pound fee on the grounds of “feeling… geez you *do* have connections!”

Margaret fell into her father’s arms as did all the other five as he arrived on the doorstep.

Spike was the last to arrive, and had been so drained that he was quite out of sorts when Xander arrived. It was only later, after all the fuss of … well the fuss, and they finally relaxed together, that he… relaxed too.

“The kiddies were so good for you Xan… All of them… They knew… How important it was for you… for us…right bright lot you and Red brought into the world.”

Xander began to stroke Spike’s increasingly long curly locks. “But Margie?”

“Yeah well she made a bit of a fuss in the end – but figure it was for the best… you should’a got the VW-ombile ta pick you up!”

“Was too much…” Xander looked contrite. It had been his choice to do all by himself.

“Trouble?! Bloody hell! Who are you kiddin’!? Maggie just about brought down half of bloody Berkshire with her panic – sooner we school that one the better!! Your girls are still cryin’ I think, and boys doin’ only marginally better – so get to… give ‘em all a Daddy hug and nice words and I’ll tend ya later.”

The last one Xander saw was Maggie. He found her again feeding from Spike, but this time she seemed to know that Da was home. He pulled her gently from her feeding and kissed her gently as he had done all his/their other children, then put her back on a willing chest.

Spike winced a little as tiny sharp teeth and mouth latched back on to the open wound that had been willingly, repeatedly accessed.

“Just take the little chit when she’s asleep yeah? Tends to bite too hard if’n she falls asleep.”

“Oh Ghod! Spike!...”

“Don’t fuss Luv or she’ll wake… just… here we go…” Spike put a gentle finger into the tiny mouth and broke the suction. Margaret slept on and Xander had the joy of bedding his youngest daughter then carrying his beloved to bed. He was truly on exhaustion point but it mattered not a jot. 

They were to live in England, they were about to be house owners, his children all but one would attend school or kindergarten and his little one was to be schooled by his lover and the Mistress.

It would be perfect if only Willow was here. They were hers… If only she knew.

 

.................  
TBC

**Author's Note:**

> Though yet to be finished - it will be... in the future.
> 
> Encouragement of the muse is helpful - please let me know if continuation is warranted sooner rather than later


End file.
